


The Schism of Fire and Water

by nightmares06



Series: Brothers Apart [8]
Category: Supernatural, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: Aeternum, Borrower!Sam, Bree - Freeform, Dog - Freeform, Flos vitae, Gen, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Ilyana - Freeform, Nixie - Freeform, Recovery, Rottweiler - Freeform, Rumsfeld - Freeform, Tiny!Sam, Volcano, Walt Watch, case!fic, kara - Freeform, puppy, size!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two months spent waiting for Sam's arm to heal, both brothers are getting cabin fever. An unusual string of natural disasters a state over gets them back on the road with a unique case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Standing Out

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second season of Brothers Apart!
> 
> I hope everyone's ready for a lot more fun with tiny Sammy, because there's plenty more coming! Be sure to check out the new tumblr for the story, brothersapart.tumblr.com
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who gave reviews and comments for the story during the first season, I wouldn't have gotten here without you!

It started out as a gentle tone.

Ilyana paused in her massaging of the fire-drake. Noonia yowled at her and nuzzled her hand, trying to get the scritches to start up again. Ilyana pushed down her snout with a smile, promising more to come soon enough. They had been together since before she could remember, and would be together after her end.

Standing, she drifted into the air with a lazy flap of her powerful wings. Where was that sound coming from? She’d never heard anything like it in all her time. Was it… calling to her?

No one else had responded. A few of her sisters were outside, sunning their wings lazily next to the other fire-drakes that called the dormant volcano home. She drifted overhead, trying to pinpoint the source of the disturbance.  
  
The musical tone grew in intensity, but she slowly started to realize it was all in her mind. The fire-drakes gave no reaction at all but a few of her other sisters were staring at their surroundings uneasily. As she flew on and it gained strength, she realized that there was a voice speaking to her past the music.  
  
_I seek to summon. Come to me if you hear this call. Great rewards await the one that responds._  
  
Compelled by curiosity, Ilyana started to triangulate its source. A small pool of stagnant water was glowing at the edge of the rocky field she was drifting over. Flaring her wings for a landing, she perched on the edge, staring down into her own red-eyed reflection.  
  
Dark brown eyes met hers, a cold expression on the others face as Ilyana’s countenance was taken in.  
  
_I have come._

[Ilyana ](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/art/Ilyana-527469444)by [Obsess-Confess](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/)

* * *

**Supernatural**

* * *

  
_BANG BANG BANG._  
  
The knocking above shook the walls themselves. Dust drifted free from the ceiling, raining down on the floor. Walt grabbed at the thimble on the counter, steadying it so the water inside wouldn’t spill all over the place. He chanced a quick glance up at the ceiling, nervous as he considered what was right above them that very moment. This wasn't something he was ever going to get used to. After all, the entire house was shaking with him just  _knocking_. If anything was ever going to make Walt feel small, that was it.  
  
Sean and Kara tore out of their bedroom, racing through the kitchen. “DEAN!”  
  
Acting fast, Walt grabbed the kids’ shirt collars. “And just where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, bothered by their carefree reaction to a human.  
  
They both stared down at their feet. Sean mumbled to the floor, “We wanted to go see Dean.”  
  
Walt hid a smile, keeping his aspect stern. He had an image to keep, after all. “Remember what we talked about the other day?”  
  
“Yes, Walt,” both kids chorused.   
  
“No matter what, no matter  _how_  certain you are that you’re safe or alone, always keep quiet. What if it isn’t Dean up there? What if someone broke into his room and is trying to lure you out? You could end up captured or worse, just like Sam and the others.” Walt put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. "I think Dean would agree you need to be more careful."  
  
He held them there with a stern gaze for a few more moments then broke away. It wouldn’t do to keep Dean waiting, after all. However kind Sam’s brother had turned out to be, he was still a hunter. Still dangerous.  
  
Even so, Walt and the others had chosen to let him know where they lived once the excitement had died down from his arrival with the others. After all, they couldn't exactly hide the sounds of celebration from under the floorboards that first night. And Walt was willing to concede that Dean had done something no other human had managed in living memory: he'd proved himself willing to choose Sam and his family and friends over humans. It would have been easy for him to just save Sam and leave the others behind, and he'd never been obligated to take care of Kara after discovering her in his room. But he had, and would again in a heartbeat. That Walt didn't doubt after what he'd seen of the hunter.  
  
Of course, telling him where they lived resulted in the occasional shock when Dean came visiting.  
  
Clapping his hands, Walt turned from the kids. “Alright. Who wants to go find Sam? After all, I’m sure that’s why Dean’s here.”  
  
Both kids tore out of the room, racing to see who could find Sam first. Walt smiled once they were out of sight. It had been a long time since he’d seen such happiness. Since Bree was a child, before she’d been taken. Sam had always been more… reserved. Somber. The result of losing his entire world that one fateful day. Walt had been happy to see that shroud of sadness start to lift from Sam at last. He knew it was because Sam had found his brother. The family he'd thought lost to him forever.  
  
Once they were gone, Walt paused. He took a moment to compose himself by brushing off his jacket. He then made his way up to the small pathway behind Krissy’s home, climbing until he was level with the floor. Coming up to the slit that had been cut away in the wallpaper, he slipped a finger through and pulled it open just a crack. With any luck, the opening was too small to be noticed by the room's only occupant. He peered cautiously into the immense motel room they lived under.  
  
Sure enough, the enormous hunter was crouched on the floor not far from Krissy’s home, patiently waiting. One massive hand rested casually just six inches from where Walt was standing, still hidden in the wall. The rest of his body was sprawled out, stretched flat on his stomach. It went on for what seemed like forever from Walt's point of view, highlighting the sheer size humans had at their disposal. Walt couldn't  _imagine_  being as big as Dean.  
  
Walt tensed at his proximity to the huge hand, then pushed his reaction down. Dean didn’t deserve their fear anymore than Sam did, not after all he'd done. It wasn’t his fault he was what he was. Walt knew that better than anyone.  
  
Pushing the wallpaper out of his way, Walt took his first step into the immense motel room. The world opened up around him, the ceiling soaring above his head. The wallpaper slipped shut behind him, unnoticed. All his focus was consumed by the human he was facing down. Natural instinct refused to ever let him truly drop his guard around Dean, even after two months of getting to know him.  
  
Dean’s eyes locked on Walt the second he slipped out of the wall. His heavy gaze softened at the sight of his small brother’s adopted father. At times like this, Walt could almost feel the truth in his statement: ‘Sam’s family is  _my_  family. Size be damned.' It was a reassurance, considering how vulnerable Walt and the others would always be when they were near Dean.  
  
“Hey,” Dean said quietly. “Sorry to bother you.”  
  
Walt took a few steps away from the wall until he was standing near Dean’s hand. A way to show his trust without having to say a word. Dean understood the sentiment perfectly, his face lighting up a little at the movement.   
  
“It’s no bother. Gave the kids a bit of excitement to start the morning off with,” Walt smiled, standing casually with his hands clasped behind his back.  
  
Dean cracked his own smile at that. Walt knew the human hunter had a soft spot for both the children. Sean he’d saved from the witch, and little Kara had bravely befriended Dean when she had no one else in the world. Because of this, Dean had been able to rescue everyone that had been taken by those disgusting excuses for humanity.  
  
Including Bree. And Sam.  
  
“I thought I heard them yelling. Where’d they get off to?” Dean asked, his voice rumbling around Walt. Although he was sure to keep his voice down around Walt and the others, it always went straight through Walt. It made his own voice sound tiny by comparison.  
  
Walt waved a hand towards the wall. “Finding Sam.” He shot an intense look up at Dean. “That  _is_  why you’re here?”  
  
Dean’s grin broadened. “Partly.” Without another word he reached forward with his other hand, clenched in a fist.  
  
Walt stiffened, standing his ground as the huge hand approached. It was impossible for him to be as casual or as trusting about this as Sam or the kids, especially after everything he'd gone through. In the back of his mind, he understood Dean meant no harm. He simply couldn’t help the way he was. Nevertheless, standing in front of an approaching hand that could scoop him unwillingly off the ground on a whim took strict self-control.  
  
The hand stopped a few inches away from Walt, and the fingers unfolded. In the center of Dean’s palm was fresh fruit - a grape, a blackberry, some blueberries and pieces of a granola bar broken down in size. All fresh. Better food than Walt’s people had access to most days of the year. Food that Dean could have anytime he wanted, underlying more of the differences between them.  
  
Walt stared up at Dean. “You don’t have to do this…”  
  
Dean shook his head. “This is the least I can do for you after everything you’ve done for my family.” His expression turned pleading. “You have to let me do  _something_  for you… I mean, without me or Sam…”  
  
Walt cut him off sternly. He'd had this same conversation with Sam countless times since they'd returned. “Without you and Sam I’d never have seen my daughter again. Wouldn’t even know she was still alive. I don’t want to hear another word from you or Sam that says otherwise.” As much force as he could muster against a human went into those words. It felt almost like he was berating Sam again - like he was scolding his son, a strange thought to have while staring up at a giant that could pluck him up between two fingers without a problem.  
  
He stared at the food for a few seconds. It would be so easy to accept. That tiny amount, barely a mouthful for someone as big as Dean, would feed the household for a week. Even with all the extra people. But still... "We'll be fine. Thank you for the offer. We don't need anyone to take 'care' of us." Reliance on a human was always a bad path to follow. Even a human that considered them family against all odds.  
  
Dean's eyebrows almost climbed off his face. "Walt, you  _know_  I don't think of you guys as pets. I'd never consider you unable to take care of yourselves. I just... I  _need_  to help. Even just a little." He shifted his hand closer, gently nudging Walt with a finger bigger than he was. "Think of it as paying off some of my debt... for saving Sam. I  _owe_ you, no matter what size you are. More than I can ever repay."  
  
Almost stumbling in surprise, Walt caught his balance.  _That_  had been unexpected. The strength of that slight nudge from Dean was a stark reminder of their differences. So far Dean had never reached for anyone who hadn't asked to get picked up (namely: the kids - every five minutes). Even Sam avoided being held unless he had to, and Dean respected that, to everyone else's surprise. They had all been raised thinking humans did whatever they wanted, not caring how people like Walt felt. But Dean was careful, he listened, he never pushed himself on anyone...   
  
Walt shot a quick glance up at the expression on Dean's face but saw only kindness and worry in those huge green eyes above. He let out a shaky breath.   
  
Walt took a moment longer to debate before giving in. He was doing that a lot these days. That was a habit he needed to break. "Very well. As long as you remember that. We get by fine on our own." He gave a sharp nod at this, reinforcing his statement.  
  
He would have protested more, but knew inside it was a losing battle. Dean shared Sam's stubbornness, and if a hunter twenty times your size dug his heels in during an argument it was hard to say no. He'd just find another way to get the food to them. Walt figured he'd save everyone the trouble. The last thing he needed was a determined hunter getting creative. Sam had warned him how creative Dean could be, and the food would be appreciated with the unexpected amount of people in the house. Soon they would need to find their own places to live or risk taking too much from this part of the motel, putting everyone in danger.  
  
There’d already been a few scouting trips, searching for a new home for Christian and Kara. Dean had helped, as much as he could. He wanted to make sure everyone he’d saved stayed safe. Whenever they were in a room, Dean made sure he was in it as well, using his breaking and entering skills to gain access with Sam along to guide him to the right room. It gave them the freedom to explore fully, without fear of capture. Although it was nerve-wracking to walk by Dean, sitting calmly in a chair with his eyes glued to them. Even for a human he was big.  
  
What was so strange about those trips was the way Dean deferred to Sam. Sam would mostly stay perched up on his brother's shoulder, telling him if any help was needed and what he should do. Other than that, he stayed out of the way as best he could. Watching a hunter take direction from someone like Sam was amazing to see. Dean still needled Sam the way only a brother could, but Sam snarked back just as much, easily standing his ground with the hunter. Their easy back and forth banter reassured Walt that trusting Dean was the right thing to do. Walt wished fervently it could always be that way.  
  
Mikael was planning on following Christian and Kara, considering Kara as close as a granddaughter. And he had no one else in the world to call family. Walt remembered him explaining how his wife had been lost over a year ago to an encroaching rat. His heart went out to Mikael. At the very least, they would always have that in common. At least Mikael had Kara to help watch after, just as Walt had Sean to distract him from his own dark thoughts.  
  
Their new home would hopefully be close enough for visits, as little Kara had latched onto Bree and Sean as surrogate siblings. She hadn’t known any other children growing up where she’d lived. She, Christian and Mikael had been the last in the motel when they decided to uproot and travel here with Sam and Dean.  
  
Speaking of the devil, light, quiet footsteps from the wall was the only warning Walt or Dean got before the kids came tearing out of the wall.  
  
“Dean!”  
  
Walt tensed as Kara carelessly leapt on the hand resting against the ground next to him. She ducked under the casually bowed fingers, sticking her tongue out at Sean. “Can’t get me!”  
  
Dean played along, closing the gaps in his fingers for her. She vanished from sight, completely enveloped by the massive fingers. Dean's eyes softened as he let her hide under there.   
  
With a visible effort to relax, Walt turned to the third person to come striding out of the wall. If anyone was safe with Dean, it was the kids. He’d been vigilant every time they were nearby, knowing at his size the slightest move could end badly for them. Walt knew all he had to do was ask, and Dean would let Kara out.  
  
“Bree,” he greeted his daughter with surprise. There was no sign of Sam behind her. That wasn’t normal. They’d been almost inseparable since getting back. He was trying to help her adjust to life without humans again, as best he could. He was the only person that could come close to understanding what she'd gone through, with his constant exposure to his brother. The main difference being Dean thought of and treated Sam as an equal while Bree had been treated as nothing better than a pet by everyone but her ‘owner’ Beth. And even Beth hadn't treated Bree as an equal the same way as Dean did with any of them. "What happened to Sam?"  
  
Her eyes stayed on the children while she talked. "Dunno. Haven't seen him all morning. I actually thought he was up here." She met Dean's eyes without flinching. Next to Sam and the kids she was the only other person to not be afraid of Dean in the slightest. Walt figured Sam's confidence in his brother was rubbing off on her.  
  
Sean came over and tugged on Bree's hand. "Make her stop! It's not fair!"  
  
Bree bent down. "What happened?"  
  
"I can't get to her and Dean won't open his hand!"  
  
Bree couldn't stop a smile on her face at that. Dean was like a big brother to the kids. A big big brother. "Dean?" she called up. "Play nice!"  
  
The giant hunter rolled his eyes. " _Fine_. If you say so..." Despite his words there was a playful smile in his voice. He was staying completely in character. "I guess that means..."  
  
His hand lifted off Kara, revealing her hiding spot. She squealed when Sean saw her. "No fair!"  
  
Dean swept them both gently up into his hand, both kids giggling at the ride. They fell into a pile in the center of his palm. "You're  _both_  mine now!" Dean grinned. He held his hand a few inches up in the air to entertain them as he focused down on Bree. "What do you mean, you can't find Sam?"  
  
With a shrug, she stood her ground in his intense gaze without a problem. "He was around last night but his bed in the living room was empty when I got up. And no one's seen him since."  
  
Walt frowned deeply. "That's not like him to vanish without letting anyone know."  
  
Dean's frown matched Walt's. "No, it's not." Worry bled through in his tone. "Especially after everything that happened." He lowered the hand holding the kids down next to his other hand. "Now who wants to help carry this food in?"  
  
Both kids happily clambered down, grabbing a bit of food each. Their eyes were wide. "Blackberries are my favorite!" Sean exclaimed in awe, hefting a blackberry the size of his torso. At this point the cursed boy understood how rare a treat fresh food was for them, with him approaching a year at this size soon enough. Dean grinned at his infectious excitement.  
  
Walt stared up at Dean. "What are you planning?" He picked up the last few pieces of granola that were left in Dean's palm, freeing Dean to move. He recognized that tone of voice from his experience raising Sam. Determination. Whenever Sam got that tone nothing could stop him, come hell or high water. Walt had tried, more than once.  
  
"Find him if I can. He's  _my_  pain in the ass little brother, after all. Can't let him go off and get into trouble without me." Once both hands were empty he pushed off the ground, sitting up straight. His towering form blocked the light of the motel room as soon as he straightened, casting Walt and the others in shadow.   
  
He brushed his hands off, scattering a few crumbs from the granola on the floor near them. Probably small enough that Dean didn’t even notice what he'd done. Humans never seemed to realize the effect they had on the world around them with simple, small gestures. It wasn't Dean's fault, but it was just another thing that underscored the difference between them.  
  
Walt and Bree backed away, more out of respect for his size than fear at this point. It was easy to forget sometimes how  _big_  he really was while he was down on the floor talking to them. The times Walt had seen Dean standing up while down on the ground had been downright terrifying.  _Nothing_  could prepare you for that. Dean's boots alone stretched over Walt's head, not to mention he was big for even a human. Yet Sam was never worried in the slightest of being stepped on, walking around on the floor near Dean with complete confidence whether the human was looking at him or not. Walt had a hard time imagining the trust that took.  
  
Walt was continually amazed at how normal Dean treated them all, not to mention his surprising acceptance of the smaller people that lived in the walls. It was unusual for humans in general, never mind a  _hunter_. Walt couldn't help but suspect in his heart it was only because of Sam.   
  
But he knew that wasn't fair. Not really.  
  
Walt turned. The kids had already run giggling into the wall without them, excited to tell everyone about the fresh food. He was about to return to the wall himself when he realized Bree wasn't with him.  
  
"Bree?" he started curiously, then paused.  
  
She was standing directly in front of the kneeling hunter's towering form, staring straight up into his face. "Dean..." she said, her voice much quieter than it had been with the children around.  
  
Dean curled both hands into fists, resting them against his knees for support as he leaned over to hear her better. Walt took another cautious step back, unable to suppress the intimidation that came from the way the human so easily loomed over them both.  
  
Dean's eyes flicked to Walt with regret shining in them before focusing solely on Bree. It was obvious he hated how different he was to them, wanting complete acceptance from his brother’s family. "What is it?" he asked kindly, keeping his voice just as soft as earlier.  
  
She took a deep breath before continuing, gathering herself to address the huge hunter. Even though she wasn't afraid of him, he was a lot to take in, especially when his singular focus was locked down on her. Anyone their size had trouble standing calmly with a human's gaze locked on them, even the girl who'd practically grown up with humans. "I'd... I'd like to come with you. To find Sam, I mean." She stared down at the floor, bumping one of the soft-soled shoes Walt had just finished for her against the carpet fibers she stood ankle deep in. "I could, maybe help you look." Her eyes lifted to him at last, meeting his gentle gaze. "You know, in the places... you don't fit..."   
  
By the end, Walt could barely hear her himself. He was shocked when Dean responded, amazed someone that large could hear something so  _quiet_. "I'd like that," he said. "You'll definitely be a huge help, especially considering my... size problem." The last part was dryly humorous, making fun of how he didn't fit in with any of them.  
  
Walt and Bree both flinched back instinctively when one of the huge hands reached towards her, fingers stretching in both their directions. But she didn't back away, standing her ground with a fist clenched behind her back so Dean couldn't tell she was nervous. The hand came to a rest next to her, over twice her height in length. With the palm facing the ceiling, it formed a broad platform that would easily accept her weight.  
  
As Bree stepped on, the hand remained motionless. Once she was settled in the center, the fingers curled up around her, guarding her against falling. Dean lifted his hand away from the ground at the same time as he pushed himself off the ground with his other hand. She gave a squeak of surprise at the speed, reminiscent of Kara's little squeak.  
  
Walt backed all the way to the wall, his arms clutched tight around the granola he was still holding. Dean was  _huge_. It was times like this that Walt was glad the hunter considered them his family. Dean could do whatever he wanted with them if he ever changed his mind.  
  
The massive boots scuffed in place as Dean turned his attention down to Walt once he was fully standing with Bree cupped safely against his chest, all the way up in the air.  
  
"I'll make sure to take good care of her," Dean said with a cocky wink. "And have her back home in time for curfew."  
  
Walt wasn't completely sure how to react to all of that, not knowing what 'curfew' was, but he understood the general gist of Dean's words. He would be sure to ask Bree about it later, once they found Sam. She'd picked up a lot from the larger beings while she'd lived with... that family. "See that you do," he said gruffly with a nod, refusing any sign of nervousness in his bearing, "and make sure Sam doesn't get himself into any more trouble. Now that his arm is finally healing he should let it rest."  
  
"I'll let him know," Dean said with a smirk. "You know how he can be." He turned away, his boots thumping across the ground as he left Walt by the wall.  
  
Walt could feel himself relax as the human's scrutiny left him. He  _wanted_  to trust Dean completely, more than anything, but could always feel his instincts holding him back. Even now, with the human across the room, the huge footsteps rattled the floor under his feet. After two months of Dean staying there, he still wasn't used to that.  _If your daughter and your son trust him with their lives, you know you can trust him too. After all, he's one of only two humans in the world that went out of their way to save people like us. He didn't just save his brother, but all of them, and he took care of Kara until she was reunited with Christian._  
  
_You can trust him._  
  
Walt turned from the room, slipping back into the dark walls and safety, heavy thoughts on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, the question of the week: Where is Sam?!
> 
> Dean would certainly like to know the answer. Anyone have any ideas for him?
> 
> And boy does Dean stand out in the family. He doesn't even fit in the front door!


	2. Stuck

"Fuck."  
  
Sam shifted in place, trying to free his arm for the tenth time. He got just as far as before, the fragile, healing limb sealed in place completely.  
  
In the darkness of the motel kitchen, Sam was left ruminating on how embarassing his situation was.  
  
Seriously... he'd helped Dean take down vengeful spirits, demons, power-hungry maniacs... if Dean saw him at the mercy of a frickin'  _spider-web,_  of all things, he'd never hear the end of it.  _Did Charlotte's Web get the best of you, Sammy?_  he heard echo through his mind in Dean's teasing voice.  
  
Sam redoubled his efforts to slip his right hand into his jacket to get to his knife. If only he could reach it, he could cut himself free. It wouldn't even be a challenge. He wouldn't be trapped anymore, on the floor of the motel kitchen, visible to any humans that came in and flicked the light on, and at the mercy of the spider when it reappeared.  
  
Whatever the hell spider had made  _this_  web had to be big. It stretched across the entrance Sam had used, near invisible threads curling around him when he stepped through. He'd thrown his arm out instinctively to block the threads, only to get it - and the rest of him - even more tangled in the web.  
  
 _Shit... how do I get out of this one?_  
  
No one knew he was here, either. Sam had wanted to  _prove_  himself... prove he didn't need Dean to survive, prove he could be independant. It felt like he got judged constantly because of his human brother. Not by Bree, of course. And not by Walt or Kara. And Sean, naturally, thought Sam and Dean were the coolest people around. He hadn't yet developed the instincts he'd need to survive, constantly trailing after Walt, who had taken the boy under his wing before Sam and Bree had reappeared.  
  
It was the others. Sam got the feeling that they didn't think he could handle himself alone anymore. He relied too much on Dean, taking the food the human offered, riding his  _shoulder_... hell, even sitting in his pocket without argument. Sam knew Dean never saw it that way, of course. Dean could do what Sam couldn't, and Sam could do what Dean couldn't. They helped shore up each other's weaknesses, made each other stronger than they'd ever be on their own.  
  
He just needed -  _wanted_  - to prove he could handle himself. To show he didn't need his big brother watching out for him all the time.  
  
And he was doing a piss-poor job of it.  
  
Sam twisted in place again, trying and failing to reach his knife. Again. "Frickin'  _spiders,_ frickin'  _webs_... sonova _bitch_..."  
  
Tiny, muttered curses filled the silence of the kitchen.  
  


* * *

  
Dean kept his hand steady as he lifted Bree off the ground. It was the first time since they'd arrived at the motel that he'd held anyone but the children or his brother in his hands, and he didn't want to screw up. Especially with this girl, who'd been treated like nothing more than an animal most of her life by humans like him.  
  
Once he said his goodbyes to Walt, Dean turned towards the table and his stuff to grab his knife for backup. It was a twin to Sam's that he'd dug out of the bottom of the trunk recently. He'd made this first one to sharpen his skills before tackling his project for Sammy. He'd almost forgotten about the reliable weapon in the years that had passed since Sam's original disappearance.  
  
Bree stiffened on his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it, tensing when she saw the huge weapon. "It's okay, you're safe here, I promise," Dean said soothingly, hoping to keep her calm. "I always keep this on me. You never know when it might come in handy." Not to mention the innumerable other weapons he kept hidden on him that she didn't know about. He tucked it into his jacket so he'd have it within reach. Considering what had happened to Sam the last time they'd been separated, Dean wasn't about to take any chances.  
  
Bree took a deep breath. "I... I know. I'm not afraid, I promise." She shivered a little on his hand. "I mean, I'm not afraid of you, at least. But... that knife's bigger than me. I can't help it." She shrank back on his hand. "I'll be better, I promise," she said, her voice almost a whisper.  
  
Dean's heart dropped at the sudden fear in her voice. "Bree, what's wrong?" He lifted up his hand, trying to meet her in the eyes. She avoided his gaze, tiny fingers threading together nervously. With his other hand, Dean gently brushed against her tiny fists with a finger, making her look up at him in surprise. "Bree, it's okay. You don't need to prove yourself for me, honest. I understand why you'd be nervous, I do." With his finger, he gently touched at her shoulder, doing his best to show support. He'd done it so often with Sam, it was starting to feel natural to feel a tiny shoulder under his finger like this.  
  
She cringed back slightly at his movement, almost bracing herself like she was afraid she was going to be hit. A ball of ice formed in his chest. All this time, she'd acted okay with him around the others, but she was obviously hiding scars no one had noticed. Did Sam know how afraid she was inside?  
  
When all that happened was the huge finger gently rubbed her shoulder in a circle, Bree's eyes opened again, staring up at him in surprise. Dean smiled. "Bree... I would never let anything happen to you, and neither would Sam. You'll always be safe in my hands, same as Sam. I promise."  
  
Her shoulders relaxed a little. "I... I'll try." She stared at the finger on her shoulder, briefly putting a hand on it. Dean worked so he didn't twitch at the light, almost nonexistent touch. Hands the size of hers and Sam's were so light he almost couldn't feel them through his comparatively thick skin.  
  
"That's all I ask, Bree," he said softly. "I'll never try to push you into anything you don't want to do, you have my word." He glanced up at the time. "You don't have to come with me if you're uncomfortable, but I should go find Sam. I have a bad feeling about him being gone without a word."  
  
"No, I want to come. I can't stay here when he might be getting into trouble." She glanced up at him, her tiny blue eyes shining in the light. "And if he's in the wall, you really  _will_  need my help."  
  
Dean smirked at that. "True," he admitted. "So, you want to stay in my hands or sit on my shoulder? And there's always a pocket if you don't like those options."  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise. "You'd actually let me stay on your shoulder?" she gasped in awe.  
  
Dean couldn't stop the feeling of shock. "Sam always sits there," he said in reply, holding in the urge to shrug. "Why wouldn't I let you?" He gave a small laugh. "It's not like it's an exclusive club or anything, although I bet I could sell tickets."  
  
She relaxed at his joke, having a better understanding of his references than the others like her after her years with humans. "I... guess... shoulder, then."  
  
Her small body tensed in his hand as Dean lifted her up. "Just make sure, if you see anyone coming, you hide. The collar's high enough that it should shield you from any onlookers." He kept still as she climbed off, grabbing onto the thick fabric with her small hands. Once she was finished situating herself, he lowered his hand to give her space. "You ready?" Dean asked.  
  
Her small voice was breathless in his ear. "I'm good." There was more shifting as she glanced around the room, staring at it in amazement. "Is this... is this what it looks like for you all the time?"  
  
Dean tried to turn his head slightly, trying to catch sight of her. "Uh, yeah." She was too far back for him to make out, too close to his neck. "Why?"  
  
"It's all so different from here... it looks so...  _small_."  
  
Dean held himself from twitching in surprise at this. "Have you never been... this high up?" he asked curiously. How had she managed to live with humans for years and never seen a room from a human's point of view? How had they treated her all those years?  
  
Out of Dean's line of sight, Bree stared down at the thick shirt she was sitting on, her fists clenching against the coarse fabric. "No... I only ever traveled in hands, mostly Beth's, and she was much...  _smaller_  than you are. Sam does this all the time?"  
  
"He does, as long as we aren't out in public with other humans around. If there are, he makes sure to stay out of sight, most of the time in a pocket, though he's had to hide under the collar of the jacket before. After all, Sam isn't something for me to just hide away or act like he can't take care of himself. He's my brother, and I'd never treat him or you or anyone like a pet or a second-class citizen."  
  
Bree was silent at this. While she was mulling things over, Dean took himself to the mirror in the room, checking to make sure that she'd be out of sight if anyone else happened to spot him. The tiny girl was sitting as close to his neck as she could without actually touching it, her wavy, golden blonde hair the only part that stood out against him, catching the light. For the rest, she wore slim fitting black pants, and a blue blouse Dean remembered Sam telling him that their childhood friend Krissy had made. Krissy had learned from Bree's mother - Sam's  _adopted_ mother - Mallory, how to be an expert seamstress. Dean couldn't help but wonder what they used for a needle, but considering the ingenuity he'd seen from them and from Sam since discovering they existed, anything was possible.  
  
Dean adjusted his collar, making sure it was up as far as it could go. Bree flinched back fearfully from his hand, but stopped herself, trying to be brave with it just being her friend’s hand that was looming over her.  
  
Before Dean walked away, he heard her tiny voice pipe up in his ear again. "So... why are you looking for Sam today? You've never come to find him like this before."  
  
Dean paused for a moment, then walked for the door. "Well, today's special. It's his birthday, and I wanted to make sure he got to celebrate it this year, since I know he's never had the chance at this size."  
  
He'd asked Walt one day, out of curiosity more than anything, and discovered that they didn't celebrate like humans did. No birthdays, no Christmas, no random celebrations. The closest was the tiny party they'd thrown when Sam had returned with all the others that had been taken captive by humans, saved by Dean a day before they were to be sold off to some woman - Mina Chandler, whoever that was. Dean hadn't been able to find any record of her existence, so she must have been using a fake name when she talked to the family. The only redeeming words Sam had said about her had been the fact that she had practically ordered 'hands off' Sam, because of how  _valuable_  he'd be. At the very least, she'd prevented Sam from being injured more before Dean's rescue.  
  
The only reason they'd even risked the party had been because of Dean's presence. Clearly, after all the effort he'd gone through to save them he wasn't about to go on a rampage to capture them. He'd heard the tiny noises even after he'd returned from the bar that night, long after last call.  
  
Bree almost gasped in surprise in his ear. Before Dean could ask her what he'd done wrong  _now_ , she told him.  
  
"When... when I was taken away from Mom and Dad all those years ago, Isabelle gave me to Beth as a birthday present." Her voice trailed off, lost in memory.  
  
Dean's mouth tightened in a scowl. Treating this innocent girl like a plaything, nothing more than a pet to give to their daughter... was there no end to the awful things these people had done? No wonder he felt like he was taking two steps back for every step forward with her.  
  
"They shouldn't have done that, Bree. You're not some  _thing_  for them to give away and treat like a possession. Birthday's are supposed to be happy, spent with your family and friends, the same as the other times people celebrate. I'm sorry for what they put you through. That's over now and you're with your family again. If anything like that  _ever_  happens again, I'll be here to get you back. You have my word."  
  
Her tiny voice was delicate in his ear. "Tha-- thank you."  
  
Dean smiled as he opened the door of his room. "So, any ideas where Sam might have gone off to?"  
  
He might not have seen the smile on her face, but he could hear it. "I have one..."  
  


* * *

  
The darkness pressed in on Sam, an almost crushing weight.  
  
It had to be over an hour he'd been trapped now, and all he'd succeeded in doing so far was getting himself more tangled in the web. His good arm was entwined, his jacket sealed so he couldn't reach his knife, and the injured arm he couldn't risk moving enough to see if he could escape that way. It was much better than it had been, but still had to stay motionless if he was to have any hope of it healing straight.  
  
After an endless amount of time in there, Sam heard something.  
  
It started as a rustling, off in the dark. He tensed. There was no way that was a human. They were much more thudding, shaking the ground around them even if they tried to walk carefully, like Dean. Mice and rats tended to snuffle along, sniffing the ground in front of them. It had to be...  
  
Sam flinched as a segmented appendage came into sight, brushing along the sticky tendrils anchored to Sam's clothes. He froze when it moved over his leg, testing its catch. It twitched back a little when he started his struggles anew. The spider wouldn’t care that he was bigger than its normal catch. That would just make him more meat, more fulfilling prey for it. He’d heard stories of others like him that had fallen prey to spiders in the past. They weren’t as obvious a danger as rats, but still a threat.  
  
The kitchen light snapped on overhead.  
  
Sam and the spider both froze in shock, instinctively cringing from the sign that a huge human was nearby. Both of them were in plain view once the human walked around the towering counter in the center where the food was prepared.  
  
A voice boomed through the room, echoing around them. "Sam? You in here?"  
  
 _Dean!_  
  
Throwing any sense of caution to the wind, Sam shouted with all he had, "Dean! I'm over here!"  
  
As though it realized its prey was about to slip away, the spider reacted, long, black-spiked legs coming into view. Sam's breath caught in his throat as he beheld it in its entirety. Blank, dead eyes glittered at him, clustered above nasty, wet fangs. Easily longer than his hand, they'd have no problem slicing through the tiny hunter's body if it got its fangs on him. Along the glistening, black abdomen, he caught sight of a shining red hourglass, revealing the type of spider whose web he’d fallen into.  
  
A black widow.  
  
Sam gasped, struggling as hard as he could. He managed to get a leg up, kicking it in one of the grasping pedipalps. Pain sliced up his bad arm at his move, stuck in place as it was. Sam stumbled in the web. Massive sounds echoed around him and the spider, an earthquake shaking the ground around them. The spider reeled back for a second, disoriented by Sam's unexpected struggle.  
  
A sudden shock that echoed up through the ground knocked Sam down completely, some of the cords anchoring him snapping free. Before he could figure out what was going on, there was a massive explosion, and a scream from high overhead. A shockwave of air sent Sam rolling through the rest of the web in the chaos, sticking in place again at the end.  
  
He blinked his eyes open to a massive wall of rubber and leather crushing into the ground so hard they almost merged into one while a disgusting ooze leaked out from underneath. When the shock faded, Sam felt his breathing start back up, gasping out his pure terror as he tried to recover. A long, twitching leg stuck out, spasming as an after-effect of the spider's death.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Trying to focus on the worry in Dean's voice, Sam forced himself to look up at the hunter as he pulled himself to his knees. _Dean, it's Dean, you're okay..._  he thought to himself, but this time he had a hard time believing it. Dean's boot had landed less than an inch away from Sam in order to get the spider in time, coming close to crushing his tiny brother as well. As much as Sam trusted his brother, it was hard to look up and see Dean looming over him after that.  
  
The shadows above Sam moved as Dean went down to one knee, keeping the boot that was crushing the spider still and motionless. As the huge knee touched ground, Sam was surrounded on both sides by the far larger hunter.  
  
"Sammy?" Dean said questioningly, his voice gentle as it fell around Sam this time. "You okay?"  
  
Sam gasped, flinching back from a huge hand as it approached. He almost fell over again trying to escape his brother's grip, desperately struggling. All he could see was the ground shaking, the explosion hitting him with a shockwave of air,  _hands crushing, grabbing him, breaking him..._  
  
He was yanked out of his flashbacks when Dean's fingers brushed against his back, gently encircling him. The web snapped effortlessly, Dean barely even noticing the cords that had held Sam prisoner for over an hour.   
  
The fingers hesitated once he was surrounded, protected by Dean's warmth. "Sammy, it's okay, it's  _me_. You know you can trust me. I just have to get you out of this... okay? Can I... can I pick you up?"  
  
Sam's heart jumped with fear at the thought, but found himself nodding desperately in spite of that. He wanted... he  _needed_  Dean right now, even if he couldn't control his instincts, telling him he was trapped, helpless... vulnerable to the human towering above him.  
  
"Don't worry, we're gonna do this slow, alright? You're my pain in the ass little brother, can't let you be getting into trouble without me now, can I?" As Dean talked, keeping a reassuring, welcoming tone in his voice, the fingers tightened, completely surrounding Sam in a way Dean only did if there was no other way, knowing how easily he could take advantage of Sam's size without ever meaning to. "I mean, where would I be without you? You're the only reason I survived those other cases, the ace in the hole that rescued my lame ass from the fire." Dean's easy ramble went on, trying to distract him from the fact that each of Dean's fingers alone was stronger than the small hunter. Surrounded like this, Sam didn't have a choice. Dean was in control right now.   
  
But the fingers were gentle, cushioning Sam's injured arm so it wasn't jarred while he was pulled free of the spider web. He understood intellectually that if he panicked more, or asked Dean to stop, the fist would be open in a heartbeat, but he couldn't help the fear that beat in him in time with his fluttering heart.  
  
The moment Dean had Sam completely in his grasp, the hand lifted off the ground as Dean went to a stand. The webs snapped free at the swift, easy movement, effortlessly overpowered by the human. Once he was standing straight, Dean gently released Sam onto his other hand, letting the small Winchester have some air out of the tight confines of his fist.  
  
Trying to not hyperventilate, Sam took slow, calming breaths.  _Dean, just Dean. You're safe, you're always safe here._  He focused on everything he could to take his mind off that helpless feeling deep inside, the feeling that never left after the events two months back now. The blue flannel wall rose up behind him, reminding him how overpowering Dean could be.  
  
Sam realized there was another voice present, light and delicate, right as Bree climbed into Dean's hand with him. Her big blue eyes went wide as she saw the state he was in, spiderweb twisted around every part of him. The world shifted around them as Dean moved, sending a brief grimace down at the mess under his boot, now out of Sam's line of sight. Sam had no desire to see the state the spider was in after being stepped on, not after he'd been less than an inch away from the same fate. He shivered as Dean scraped off his boot, cleaning the guts off the sole. If Dean had missed, that could be  _Sam_  he was scraping off his boot right now.  
  
As Dean started walking out of the kitchen, long strides covering the distance faster than Sam or Bree could ever hope to match, Bree's delicate hands brushed against Sam's healing arm. "What kind of trouble have you been getting up to?" she asked, her voice a light tease, even though when he looked into her eyes, she was as deeply serious as he'd ever seen her.  
  
Briefly, he remembered the scream he'd heard. She must have seen Dean stomp the spider, knowing she couldn't do anything to help Sam all the way down there... both of them tiny, helpless against the whims of the huge hunter whose hands they now sat in. _But it's not just a hunter, it's your brother Dean and he only wants to help you, that's all he always wants and you know that, you do..._  
  
The light flicked off in the kitchen as Dean arrived at the door, a ray of light from the hall hitting them as Dean cracked open the door to peer out. Sam flinched fearfully away, backing himself into the wall behind him. A hand came up around the two tiny people, curling around his other hand to keep them out of sight.  
  
Bree's hands found Sam's arms as he trembled, twitching at the sight of the hands curled around them. His mind was trapped, reliving being clenched in fists, crushed... "Sam," Bree's voice broke through his funk, forcing him to focus on the girl sitting next to him.  
  
Above them, Dean peered suspiciously down the hall in both directions, his own instincts on a keen edge. He could feel Sam shivering fearfully down on his palm, and regretted not being able to check on him. It was lucky for both of them Bree had decided to come with him. She shifted on his hand, gently helping Sam in a way Dean couldn't right now.  
  
Letting the kitchen door close behind him with a click, Dean walked down the hall as fast as he could manage without jostling the fragile lives he held. His hand curled inwards a little closer as he fretted silently about other passersby spotting them. With the condition Sam was in he didn't dare put them in his pocket.  
  
The world passed swiftly by Sam and Bree, almost impossible for them to focus on at the speed Dean was traveling back to the room. Bree tried to keep Sam focused on her even as he twitched away from Dean's fingers curling around them. "Sam, it's just  _Dean,_ remember? That's your brother up there." Her hands brushed his matted hair from his eyes. "You once told me there's no one in this world you trust more, remember? The guy who would do anything to help people, no matter if he knew them or not. The last thing he's ever going to do is let something happen to  _us_  and you  _know_  that."  
  
Sam let out a gasp when her hand accidentally pulled on the web a little too hard. Her words started to break through his panic, reminding him where he was and chipping at his mental block. He  _wasn't_  near Isabelle anymore, and Chance would never get his hands on him again. They were rotting away in jail this very moment, arrested for drug-running and breaking various other laws. He'd lost track when Dean had told him all the details, having a hard time keeping up with the varied human terms thrown at him by his brother.  
  
 _Dean..._  
  
With that, the haze covering his mind collapsed completely. He was in  _Dean's_  hands. He was safe. Sam's head jerked up, staring at the bottom of Dean's chin, all he could make out of his brother's face from there. He could see Dean's head move in every direction whenever he came to a hallway intersection, keeping a sharp eye out for any dangers to them.  
  
Bree saw the fear fade from Sam at last. Her face softened. "Yeah, that's right," she said, brushing her hand along his cheek. "You remember. We're safe. No matter how nerve-wracking he can be sometimes, he'd never let anything happen to you. That I know, for sure." Her hands found his jacket. "Now, hold still. We have to get this off you."  
  
The sling was the first to go. Bree dug Sam's knife out of his jacket, ripping through the last of the webbing holding his jacket closed. She sliced away at the sticky mess, giving Sam more maneuverability. Finally, she was able to pull off his sling.   
  
Although the arm was mostly healed, he'd continued wearing it to keep the arm stable during the day, nervous to knock the arm against anything and threaten the nearly complete healing process. If he lost the ability to climb, his life would be almost impossible.  
  
She peeled off his jacket next, gently freeing his arms and torso from the rest of the mess. The jacket was tossed onto the fingers stretching out to the side, away from their place in Dean's palm. "There, that's not so bad now, is it?" Bree asked softly.  
  
With the jacket gone, most of the sticky mess had gone with it. Only a few of the threads stuck to his jeans, leaving his hair the messiest part of him. Sam twitched back when Dean's hand moved away from them, opening up their hiding place to the world, but all the hunter was doing was opening their motel room door.  
  
Sam blinked in surprise. He'd never even seen Dean step out of the bowels of the motel into the sunlight. He'd been that lost in his mind, too tormented by his traumatic experiences two months back to be able to focus on anything else.  
  
The hand they were on shifted, Bree grabbing onto Sam's arm in surprise at the slight tilt as Dean dug his room key out of his pants. He took no notice of them, sending one last suspicious glance around the parking lot before stepping into the safety of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe that kidnapping left a few scars on Sam that no one can see...
> 
> Next chapter 8/2


	3. Happy Birthday, Sammy

Tension left Sam and Bree when Dean finally entered the reassuring darkness of the room. Although it might be Dean's room right now, they'd both lived in this motel for years on their own time, and coming in was a little bit like coming home for both of them. Even though these days Sam considered Dean and the Impala to be his home more than any place he'd lived, the impression remained. Helping this impression was the fact that Dean had requested ( it might be more accurate to say  _demanded_  ) the room where Krissy's family lived, with her and her younger brother Kael and their mother there at the moment, along with Walt, Sean, and all the others Dean had rescued with Sam.  
  
Dean walked through the room and straight to the bathroom. He lowered his hand to the countertop next to the sink, letting Bree and Sam climb off on their own, as best Sam could with his legs still tangled in webbing. While Bree was supporting Sam and helping him get his bearings, Dean turned on the faucet, starting up a rushing cascade of water from the tap.  
  
They got settled a few inches away from the edge of the sink, near a large razor Dean had left lying on the smooth countertop. Sam sat down with his legs pulled up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.  
  
His eyes were glued to the powerful stream of water as Bree checked his head,  _tutting_  at the matted, sticky mess his hair had become. Her voice pulled him away from his trance. "You know, we might have to cut your hair to get this out."  
  
Sam jerked away. "What?! No!" One of his hands went to his hair protectively as he scooted back on the counter for space.  
  
Her mouth twitched, unable to hide her smile. "I'm  _kidding,_  Sam. It's not bad at all. We just need some warm water and it'll wash right out, same for your clothes." She moved closer to him again, giving him a wink reminiscent of Dean. "Your brother told me how protective you are of your hair."  
  
Sam huffed in annoyance. It figured Dean would still find a way to tease him about his hair through Bree. "Yeah, well, he's just as protective over his. Always spiking it up like that when he doesn't think I'm watching, then pretending it's all natural."  
  
Her smile covered her face at this. "I'm sure."  
  
A shadow fell over the counter as Dean returned. Sam couldn't help flinching back, but didn't react otherwise. No freezing, no sudden panic attacks this time. With any luck, that was over now.   
  
_Please, let it be over. I don't want to be afraid of my own brother. He doesn't deserve that. Everything he's done, he's done for me - it would kill him to see me afraid._  
  
Dean held a washcloth under the rushing water, letting it soak fully before placing it softly next to Sam and Bree. She grabbed a small edge of the immense cloth, stretching it out to Sam. "Here," she said quietly, slowly rubbing it through his hair. The sticky threads began to loosen, coming free in the warm liquid.  
  
While Bree was at work cleaning Sam, Dean took the tiny jacket that had been dropped on his fingers and ran it under the water. He rubbed it clean with gentle care. Sam didn't have as many clothes as Dean did, and there weren't any stores that sold clothing for four inch tall people that weren't toy stores. After Sam's last experience with doll clothes, he never wanted to repeat the experience. They were scratchy, bulky, badly-sized attempts at mimicking what humans wore, using the same cloth as humans used. Now, cloth like that was fine for someone like Dean. His skin was thicker, and not as sensitive. But for someone Sam's size, that type of cloth was cumbersome, abrasive and damaging. The clothing he wore now had been fashioned by his mother before she was murdered, using threads she'd carefully broken down from frayed scraps of cloth and cotton from the beds in the motel to be soft and comfortable. She'd been a master at the job.  
  
Once the jacket was clean, Dean placed it down on a second washcloth to dry, out of their way. Bree was talking quietly to Sam as she rubbed his hair clean, an unhappy, dejected look on his face while she worked. Dean knelt down once he was finished, trying not to loom over them.  
  
"Hey," he said quietly when he saw Sam's eyes raise up to meet his own. "You okay?"  
  
Sam couldn't hold Dean's gaze, his eyes darting away to look at anything else while Bree worked on his hair. The wall, the washcloth... any of it was better than trying to meet those huge, intense eyes above them reflecting nothing but concern and worry down at Sam. He could almost _feel_  Dean’s frown at his nervousness. "I... I'm fine. Now, at least." Sam shifted at a pull on his hair from Bree. She apologized as Sam went on. "You really know how to show up at the right time, don't you?"

  
"Yeah," Dean said softly. "Barely. You almost bought it back there, kid. If that spider got its fangs in you..."  
  
Sam's shoulders slumped down. Stupid size, stupid spider, stupid problems... once again he got himself into a situation that wouldn't have been a problem if he was a human, as he was almost certain Dean was thinking. Sam  _liked_  being this size. He  _liked_ spending time with his family this size, no matter if it was Walt or Bree or  _Dean_. It was the way he was, but how could he admit that to Dean, after everything he was doing to try and fix him?  
  
Instead of saying any of this, Sam forced himself to meet those worried eyes above, large enough for him to see his own reflection staring back at him. "Thanks," he said quietly, meaning it. "Both of you." He switched his glance to Bree, "I really messed up this time, didn't I?"  
  
Bree shook her head. "How were you supposed to know the spider was there? It wasn't there the other week when Dad ran through the kitchen to find what he could, so it must have just moved in and set up a nest there. An arachnid that size would usually get killed by the staff the moment they found it. Can't have guests thinking they're infested, after all." She stood, helping Sam stand up with her. "Aside from your pants, you're clean. No more sticky mess in your hair." She brushed her hands off, glancing up at Dean for a moment, instinctively making sure he wasn't going to grab either of them. She turned to Sam again. "I should head back, tell Dad you're alright. He'll be tearing up the walls looking for you as soon as he finds someone to watch the kids, after all."  
  
"Okay," Sam said. He watched as Dean stood up, extending a hand for them. It remained steady as they both stepped on. "Did you want me to come back with you?" Sam asked curiously.  
  
Sam couldn't miss the way the hand tensed under him, sending a slight jolt of fear up his spine again. _Just Dean..._  he repeated in his mind, knowing he was safe. No matter how bad the panic was when it hit, he needed to hold on to that thought more than anything, like a life vest in the ocean. Dean's smallest twitch could set Sam off like this.  
  
Bree paid Dean no mind as the hand started to move, taking them over to where the entrance to Krissy's was, next to the dresser. Sam had been shocked when the others living there had decided to let Dean know where they lived. Walt had said it was silly to pretend they didn't exist when Dean clearly already knew about them, not to mention the fact that they hadn't bothered even trying to hide when Sam, Bree and the others had been found.   
  
" _Obviously he heard us under there, Sam. You said for a human he's got uncanny hearing, so there's no point in us pretending we aren't here, and then there's the fact that you and I both know he could find the entrance on his own if he tried. Let's give him the respect he deserves for what he's done for us. I've never heard of another human doing more for us than your brother, and for that he deserves our thanks and respect and always will._ "  
  
The memory of that moment, hearing the respect in Walt's voice, was one of the proudest Sam could remember. His brother, his _human_  brother, had been accepted by his family, and that was one of the most important moments of his life.  
  
Dean's hand hit the ground, jarring Sam from his thoughts. Bree climbed off, stopping Sam from going with her. "Don't worry, Sam. I'll let them know you're okay. I think Dean wanted to spend some time with you, especially after he almost shook the house when he knocked earlier during his search for you."  
  
Sam's brow furrowed. "Knocking?" He twisted around to face Dean. "You  _knocked_  on their roof?! What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how nerve-wracking that would be?"  
  
Dean's eyebrows almost lifted off his face. "Hey, I was being polite! It's not like there's any other way for me to get your attention. I can't exactly stroll up to the door like a normal person and say 'hi,' Sam!"  
  
Sam stared down at the ground under his boots. No, not the ground. He was still standing on Dean's hand. Heat rose to his face, knowing every word Dean had said was true.   
  
Bree cleared her throat behind him, drawing both brothers attention back to her. "It doesn't matter. They don't mind, and the kids were thrilled to have an excuse to visit with Dean. You both know Kara would be up here all the time if she could." She looked right at Sam. "I'll see you later, okay?"  
  
With that, she left, slipping back into the hidden entrance in the wall. Dean paid it no mind as usual. He was careful not to stare after them now, once he'd realized how nervous he could make the little people with a simple glance. Sam was very proud of the way Dean had adapted to interacting with people so much smaller than himself.  
  
Once Bree was gone, Sam turned back to Dean. "So, you were searching for me?" he asked. Aside from the fact it had been damn good timing on Dean's part to search for him today of all days, Sam was curious what had brought it on. During the last two months at the motel, Dean had let Sam come visiting on his own, not searching once for any of the tiny people that he knew were around. He  _did_  have to keep a sharp eye out at all times, with Kara trying to run off and visit whenever she could. She was so attached to Dean that Sam worried how she'd react when they left the motel, as they would have too eventually. Dean's credit card scams would only go so far before the motel owner got suspicious.  
  
Dean lifted the hand from the floor, standing back up. Sam was forced to grab onto the thumb next to him to keep his balance, not expecting the sudden movement. "Of course I was! Can't have you spending today alone, after all." Before Sam could ask what he meant, Dean went on, lowering his hand to the table, "And what was that all about, anyway? Going to the kitchen alone with your arm still recovering? Sam, you of all people should know if you need anything, you don't need to put yourself at risk for it. I'm  _always_  here for you."  
  
At this, Sam felt his shoulders slump down. The feeling of neediness and reliance came crashing back down on him, built up to an all new high after the last two months with his arm out of commission. The arm was only now strong enough to use on a day-to-day basis. "I just..." he stepped down onto the tabletop. "I  _wish_  I could do things for myself again. I keep feeling like everyone considers me dependent on you, and I wanted to prove I can do things for myself.  _Alone_." He practically collapsed on one of the thick books Dean had lying scattered about from a bit of research he'd been doing earlier in the month. There had been a few days when he'd suspected a haunting in one of the local schools.  
  
Dean grabbed his duffel from by the bed, dropping it next to his chair as he sat down. "Sam, is that really how you feel?" he asked softly, leaning down and resting his head on his crossed arms so he didn't overshadow his little brother.  
  
Sam was glad for the consideration. He gave his arms a small shrug. "Not with Walt or Bree maybe, because they understand us a little better. But the others... sure. I catch them sending me looks all the time. Sam, the human freak. Can't even take care of himself." His eyes scrunched shut, upset by the thought.  
  
A gentle weight smoothed down his arm. Sam peeked an eye open, realizing Dean was trying his best to offer support. "Sam, you know what they think of you doesn't matter, right? All that's important is how you feel," the finger moved, lightly tapping Sam on his chest, "in here. You've got people who care about you no matter what."  
  
Sam let out a huff. "Maybe."  _It matters to me, anyway._  He looked up, trying to focus on something for a distraction. "What brought on the search for me, anyway? Not that I don't appreciate your flawless timing."  
  
"Don't you remember what day it is?" Dean asked, straightening in his seat. A grin covered his face.  
  
Sam cast his mind back, trying to remember what day it was, or even what month. He almost never bothered keeping track of the months anymore, or the dates. Naming them was another human convention that was useless to people like Sam. They had no need to time their lives - no work week to live by, no day of 'rest,' no holidays... nothing. Just survival.  
  
Dean's face fell at Sam's confusion. It was clear this wasn't how he'd expected any of this to go. "Sam," Dean said, leaning closer. His voice was softer than Sam had ever heard it. "It's May 2nd. Your birthday."  
  
"Birthday..." Sam mumbled, almost to himself. He'd forgotten. "It's my birthday..." He looked up at Dean. "That means... I'm 24 now." His eyes fell to his hands, resting on his legs. So small compared to any of the items sitting around him... He clenched his hands into fists. "It's almost been 14 years I've been like this... most of it without you..."  
  
Dean reached out a cautious hand to Sam, gently touching the tiny fists with a light finger. "But I'm here now, Sammy, and I'll always be here for you, no matter our size." After that, Dean sat up, clapping his hands together. "Now! I don't know about you, but today's a day for us to celebrate, and I know exactly how to start."  
  
Aside from a small flinch of surprise at Dean's clap, Sam stayed still at the giant hunter's movement. After spending so much time among people his own size, being with Dean was almost overpowering. He'd get used to it again. He had to.   
  
"What do you mean?" he asked curiously, focusing on that. He hadn't had a birthday since he turned ten, and Dean had been the only one that remembered that time. John had been too busy with a case to bother with his sons, only stopping in the motel for ammo and to eat. Sam's mouth twitched into a smile at the memory. Dean had always tried so hard to get Sam's mind off their dad being gone.  
  
He wondered what Dean had come up with. The glint in his brother's eyes showed Sam how excited Dean was for this moment, now that they were past the initial terror of the day.  
  
Dean leaned down, digging something out of his duffel bag. Sam was drawn to his feet as Dean placed a newspaper-wrapped box directly in front of him, his eyes as round and hopeful as they'd ever been when he looked up at Sam. Sam took a few steps forward as the hand lifted away, making room for him.  
  
"Dean... you didn't have to do this..." Sam said, turning bright red as he realized if today was his birthday, he'd missed Dean's completely months ago. "I... I can't do anything like this for you..."  
  
Dean's eyes softened. "Sam, you don't  _have_  to. You've done enough just by being here with me. You have..." his voice choked up on his words for a second. Dean cleared his throat loudly, blinking away shining eyes. "You have no idea how hard it was for me, thinking you were gone. Let me at least do this for you, please?"  
  
The emotion in Dean's voice caught Sam off guard. He turned to his present, letting himself smile at last. The box was a bit bigger than his bed, and reached Sam's shoulders in height. "What the hell is it?"  
  
He was nudged forward by a knuckle. "Open it and find out!" Dean's voice was eager.  
  
Sam caught his balance, sending Dean a fake glare. But he grabbed his knife, sizing up the huge present. Strips of tape held the edges shut with the way the thick newspaper was clumsily folded around the box, keeping Dean's attempt at a wrap job together. Sam sent up Dean a confident grin before he tackled the paper, slicing through it with ease with his sharp blade.  


* * *

  
Dean watched the tiny hunter take on the box, smiling all the while. He'd been planning this moment for over a month now, ever since he realized he knew  _exactly_  what Sam would want, and it was something Dean would have no problem obtaining for him.  
  
He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Sam it meant more just having Sam around than any gift could ever do. Even the simple, everyday moments, like having Sam sit on his shoulder, leaning casually back against his neck, gave him a feeling of security and peace he hadn't had since childhood. The little hunter standing in front of Dean was more important than any other person in his life, and all he wanted was to see Sam happy and healthy.   
  
It warmed his heart to see the arm was almost completely healed. Sam hadn't once flinched in pain since having the sling cut off by Bree, and he could probably take off the splint as well. Dean had hated seeing that injury on Sam, knowing how crippling it could be to lose the ability to climb while so small. Without Dean or his family, that kind of injury could have killed Sam simply because he wouldn't be able to go out and find food, or if he did, he would be far slower at escaping if he was seen. Sure, Sam could climb and get around with the broken arm, but even he admitted it was dangerous to try, and that had been while surrounded by friendly humans and helped by Walt.  
  
Dean forced those thoughts away as Sam finally managed to peel the newspaper off, revealing the plain white box that contained his present within. A strip of tape held the top shut, and was summarily sliced open by Sam's small blade as well. With one last glance back at Dean, Sam tugged at the top, pulling it out with his limited body strength.  
  
The moment the box was open, Sam hesitated. He stared into it, then glanced back at Dean in disbelief. "Is this... is this what I think it is?" Sam asked, his small voice trembling.  
  
He backed away as Dean's hand reached over his head, gathering up the small present out of the box. "You bet it is," Dean said, grinning. He gently placed the desk next to Sam, followed by the matching chair he'd gotten to go with it. He was thrilled to see the size was perfect next to Sam, just the way he'd hoped.  
  
Sam walked around it, brushing his hand over the edges. Intricate carvings lined the sides, almost fine enough to seem like they'd been made for him. He traced them with a curious finger before bending down and examining the drawers set into the wood.   
  
Dean was equally fascinated, but by the sight of his brother's hands. They were so  _small_. Although it was amazing for him to see them in action, he tried to never stare, knowing it made Sam self-conscious. With Sam so absorbed by his desk right now, Dean let himself indulge his curiosity.  
  
Sam glanced up at him from his study of the craftsmanship. "Dean, this is..." he put both hands flat on the desk, "this is  _amazing!_ How... where did you get this from?"  
  
"Well, since we were here for so long, I found a craftsman in town that specialized in dollhouse furniture. I talked to him one day when I was out and found he can make furniture that rivals what humans have." Reaching over, Dean stroked a finger down the side of the desk opposite of Sam. "After hearing what he had to offer, I couldn't pass it up, especially since I have quite a few birthdays to make up for over here. I mean, I missed _thirteen birthdays._  I can't let another one pass me by, not with you here with me now."  
  
Dean pushed the little chair closer to the desk. "Well? You gonna try it out? I need to see if we got the size right for you, after all!"  
  
The grin on Sam's face was a mile wide at this point. He grabbed the chair, pulling it up to the desk so he could sit down. Dean felt himself choking up at the sight of his brother looking normal sized next to something at last. Sam stretched his arms over the desk, seeing how it felt to use a desk made for him at last. All this time, he'd always used books to sit on, or his lap to write in his journal. He traced his hands over the armrests and the soft seat cushion. "It's... it's perfect, Dean." Blinking, he glanced up at his big brother. "I've never... it's been so long since I've been able to sit like this."  
  
Dean's grin matched Sam's. "Check out the drawers," he prompted, motioning at the drawers lining the sides and the thin drawer across the top.  
  
Sam did a double take, eyeing Dean up with a bit of suspicion. "Drawers?" he asked, turning to look at the desk again. His small hands pulled open the top drawer eagerly, pausing in surprise when he saw what was inside. "Whoa..." he said in amazement, reaching in. He pulled out a length of mechanical pencil lead, a little thicker and longer than a standard pencil would be to Dean in his hands.  
  
Dean motioned at it. "I figured your piece of lead might be getting a little small at this point, so it couldn't hurt to stock you up with more. You can sharpen them with your knife, and there should be enough there to hold you over for a good long time. Plus, I cut up an eraser, figured a few bits like that couldn't hurt."  
  
Sam stopped rubbing his hand up and down the smooth side. "Yeah, that'll definitely work." He carefully put the lead back in the drawer, running his fingers over the two dozen that filled the drawer, along with the six rubber bits. Pushing it in, he pulled open the next, staring down in surprise at the paper that filled it in a neat stack, cut into what would be perfect 8x11’s at Sam’s scale. The same was found in the next, and on the opposite side there was one empty drawer (for storage, according to Dean, since he assumed Sam would need  _somewhere_  to put the papers after he'd filled them), and in the last drawer...  
  
Sam pulled out the small book, running his fingers over the straight, neat pages. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked quietly. It was smaller than his own journal, but clearly made along the same lines, full of blank, white pages with gold trim waiting to be filled. He flipped through the book, amazed by the sight. Even the cover was a soft, durable leather instead of the thicker, papery texture of his first journal. This one was made to last.  
  
At this sight, Sam's eyes teared up as he held it to his chest. "This is... Dean, this is too much..."  
  
After years of living like this, the only things he'd ever received had been necessities. Anything else, he was expected to go out and find on his own like everyone else. Even Mallory had made expeditions of her own, going to gather tattered scraps of cloth from empty rooms. At her petite three inches, it hadn't been safe for her to go out often, and Walt was very protective of his small wife. He'd been powerless in front of her every time, her soft voice overpowering every one of his objections.  
  
Dean gave Sam a lopsided smirk, reaching forward to brush his finger against the binding. "Sam... I know how much your journal means to you, and how much it hurts to see it with the pages ripped inside. After everything you've been through, I wanted to help make it right again, even just a little."  
  
Sam hugged the small book to his chest. "...Thanks," he managed softly, barely loud enough for Dean to hear.  
  
Dean straightened in his seat. "So, how about some cake?" he asked gamely.  
  
Sam blinked up at him, still glassy eyed. "Cake?" he asked in confusion.  
  
Dean put his hands flat on the table, pushing the chair out. "Yep, cake. Or... you could say 'mini-cupcakes,' but at your size they'll be more like a nice big cake for your birthday." He went over to the mini fridge in the room, grabbing the container of cupcakes he'd bought.  
  
Coming back over to Sam, he set down one of the cupcakes next to the small hunter and his desk. A candle went on top, and as Dean lit it with his silver lighter, Sam inched closer, staring wide-eyed at the dessert. The tiny cupcake was probably only two inches tall, with another inch on top of icing. Barely a bite for Dean, but considering Sam was only four inches tall, the little pastry could feed Sam's entire family with leftovers for the week.  
  
As the flickering candlelight lit up Sam's face, Dean leaned in, gently touching his shoulder.  
  
"Happy birthday, Sammy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone likes Sammy's present!
> 
> Next chapter arrives 8/28


	4. Leavetaking

Dean leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "That... was good. Maybe not quite the same level as pie, but definitely good."  
  
Sam leaned back in his own chair, unconsciously mirroring Dean's position. It felt  _good_  to have a chair of his own at last. "I don't think I've had anything so good since being cursed," he admitted. A small shredded piece of napkin sat on his desk next to his elbow with nothing but crumbs.  
  
He'd managed to eat a tiny portion of his cupcake, making a dent that was bigger than he'd expected. Dean had polished off the remaining five cupcakes, eating them all in five big bites without a problem, which hadn't surprised Sam one bit.  
  
"We should do this more often," Dean said. He reached for Sam's leftovers. "You want to pack any of this up to go?"  
  
Sam contemplated the mass of cake and frosting in front of him. "I don't think I could eat another bite," he said, sated. "Help yourself."  
  
"What about the others?" Dean asked, grabbing a napkin. "You can take at least a bit back for them. I doubt they've ever had cake."  
  
Sam watched as Dean cut off a small slice, folding it into the napkin for safekeeping before polishing off the rest. "They don't like handouts, you know..."  
  
"Ah, they'll be fine," Dean dismissed that with a wave of his hand, offering the napkin to Sam. "After all, Walt and the kids took some fruit and granola I offered them earlier."  
  
Almost burying his head in his hands, Sam ignored the napkin. "You  _offered_  them food? Dean, we've been over this... they hate being 'dependent' on anyone or anything,  _especially_  humans."  
  
Dean's eyebrows almost climbed off his face. "Sam, I just wanted to help them out... they're  _family_ , after all, no matter how different. It doesn't matter that they're smaller or bigger, family members watch out for each other. You and I both know that doesn't make them dependent on anyone, and they should know that too." He placed the folded napkin on the desk with an unusual care. "Well, if you change your mind, it's there."  
  
Sam sighed. It wasn't likely Dean would ever really understand. Accepting food from a human was anathema to Sam's people. It was like giving up, accepting you were less than the humans that lived nearby. In a world where you had to fight and claw for simple survival, the meaning of even the simplest, most innocent action changed by leaps and bounds. Dean, while being a fighter at heart, went out and  _sought_  his battles. For Walt and the others, those battles existed the moment they stepped through their front door. From bugs to rats to spiders, the smallest creatures could kill them, never mind the far larger and more dangerous dogs and cats and humans.  
  
In a way, accepting handouts like that was giving up. It was admitting you couldn't handle yourself out there, admitting that you needed help.  _Begging_. A feeling Sam knew all too well with the looks he got around people his own size. Dean might never understand, just like he might never understand how nerve-wracking it was to simply  _be_  around humans for Sam some days, every instinct going off with just an innocent glance. After all, an innocent glance might preclude him being swept off the table in an unforgiving fist, completely helpless.  
  
After all, that had happened to him. More than once.  
  
Pushing his chair out, Sam stood. "Any good movies on?" he asked, changing the topic of conversation.

* * *

  
Later that night, Dean woke to soft cries under the nightstand. With a groan, he got up out of bed without wasting any time.  
  
For the first time since being rescued, Sam had chosen to stay in the motel room with Dean instead of returning to Krissy's and staying with the others. Dean had been heartened at that choice from Sam, knowing a huge part of him staying away had been because of how leery he was to be around a human when he was so vulnerable, even if it was his own brother. After what had been done to Sam, Dean could understand, but it twisted his heart a little each day Sam had been gone.  
  
Unfortunately, Sam clearly wasn't over his trauma yet. Dean brushed his hair back, taking a moment to gather himself before he knelt down, carefully pulling the books out of the way of Sam's room.  
  
Slits of moonlight made it through the shades of the room, managing to bathe Sam's small bed in the light. Sam struggled under the covers, angrily trying to push away at imagined attackers. His head whipped back and forth, "no, no, no..." all that Dean could hear from him.  
  
Licking his lips nervously, Dean reached forward, intending to scoop Sam up the way he'd done before, back when Sam had nightmares every night after his family had died.  
  
The opposite effect happened this time when his fingers brushed against Sam's shoulder. " _NO!_  " Sam shouted, a small punch hitting Dean's hand in his sleep. The tiny hunter writhed around, trying to bite and kick at Dean's hand.  
  
"Crap!" Dean hissed when Sam almost fell out of bed striking out at him. "Sam, wake up! C'mon, you're safe here, you  _know_ that!"  
  
Changing tactics, he gently nudged Sam with a knuckle, moving it out of the way before Sam could retaliate. Sam's struggles died down as he started to come around. They died off completely as the last blanket fell off the bed. He sat up with a moan, gingerly holding his splinted arm.  
  
"Dean?" he asked in confusion, blinking blearily up at the opening of the nightstand. "Dude, what..." he glanced around at the covers he'd scattered from the bed in his sleep, "...what happened?"  
  
Dean leaned back on his heels, giving Sam a little space. "You were having a nightmare. I was just trying to help."  
  
With a groan, Sam rubbed his face. "I'm fine Dean, don't worry about it. I've... I've been having nightmares since we got back. There's nothing you can do." He waved his hand up at Dean, gesturing for him to leave. "I guess... maybe I should go back to sleeping at Krissy's if I'm gonna wake you up. At least one of us needs a good night's sleep."  
  
Dean didn't move at first, getting over the fact that Sam had been having these nightmares since getting back. It had been over _two months_  since Dean had rescued everyone. Had he even slept? "Sam..." Dean bit his lip. "You can stay where you want... but don't worry about me. Wherever you feel the safest is probably best right now... you need the sleep, man."  
  
A thought occurred to him, something he might be able to do for Sam, even at his size. "This might be stupid..." he mumbled, almost to himself as he took off his necklace. "But since you... can't stand me touching you right now, maybe this will help a little."  
  
He held the amulet out next to Sam, waiting until Sam's small hands took it from him. Sam stared down in confusion at the large, metal face in his lap. He ran a curious hand over it, tracing the thick curves of the metal. "What for?" he asked, turning curious eyes back up at Dean.  
  
"Well, when you gave it to me when we were kids, you told me it would help protect me. Y'know, since Dad was never around to do the protecting himself. This might be silly... but somehow, after you were gone... having this on made me feel connected to you, made me feel that no matter how bleak things got, my little brother was always with me. Now, maybe it protected me, maybe it didn't, but I do know that this," Dean slowly reached forward, tapping lightly against his amulet, "is the reason we're here now, together. You should have it, at least for tonight. Let it be a reminder... I'm always going to be here for you. No matter what, you'll always have me around."  
  
"That's not silly..." Sam said quietly, staring up at Dean's eyes, surprised at the emotional outpouring from him. He remembered that first time they'd run into each other since his curse, when Dean had caught him. Without the amulet, he might never have realized it was his brother holding him captive, and before Dean had realized Sam was harmless, there were a thousand things he could have done... broken arms, captured Sam, gone after his family... but because of this necklace, Sam had recognized him, and none of that would ever come to pass. Something as simple as a hunk of metal forged in the image of an ancient idol bound them as family as surely as blood.  
  
Sam sat silent for a moment with those thoughts in mind, staring at the amulet in his arms. An inch long, it was a fourth his height, and  _heavy_. But Sam didn't notice the weight. A grin came to his face as he glanced back up at Dean. "So, how're those chick flick moments going for you?"  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, pushing against his knees to stand up. "Shaddup, pint-size. I'll want that back safe and sound in the morning, so make sure you watch over it for me."  
  
"Sure thing, Dean," Sam almost whispered, watching the huge hands as they moved to put the books back along the edge of the nightstand, blocking almost his entire view of the bedroom. Dean left a small opening at the opposite end from where the bed was, leaving the only moonlight leaking in to land on his new desk, where the cupcake leftovers were still wrapped up in the napkin.  
  
He only flinched a little as the floor shook under him as Dean walked away to go the the bathroom, from what Sam could tell. A smile came to his face as he gazed at the desk, remembering the hopeful expression in Dean's eyes when he opened it. Rubbing a hand over the amulet, he put it alongside his pillow, letting it be a reassurance to him that he was safe even in the towering darkness of the motel room.  
  
That was the first night since being taken that Sam slept soundly.

* * *

  
The early morning sun found Sam perched on the nightstand, legs dangling off the edge as he watched a news report from a state away. The shower ran in the background, filling the air with the reassuring patter of water. It washed away the disturbing silence that never failed to unnerve Sam after his recent abduction. The tiny scrapings of a lockpick in the door continually sounded in his head when he was left on his own. Like now.  
  
On the television, a helicopter cam panned over the landscape, showing the destroyed half of a town, crumpled wreckage everywhere.  
  
" _Confusion runs rampant as the town has been declared unsafe for habitation. The earthquake last week coincides with the tornado yesterday down to the exact date and time, spreading rumors of a town-wide curse that afflicts it all. All superstitious notions aside, evacuation procedures are being followed by the mayor._ "  
  
Sam frowned to himself as he contemplated the report. Two natural disasters, spaced apart by  _exactly_  seven days, down to the second? "Definitely  _not_  natural," he muttered under his breath.   
  
He brushed a hand over the new journal sitting on his lap, loving the leather covering on it. There was still room in his older journal, but he was eager to break in the new one. The pages were even gold leafed, giving the small book a professional feel.  
  
He opened it to the first page. While Dean was in the shower, Sam filled in his name, claiming the book as his own in delicate handwriting that humans couldn't read without a magnifying glass to help.  _Sam Winchester_. After a moment of hesitation, at the bottom of the page, in bold lettering, he put  **If lost, return to Dean Winchester** , figuring it couldn't hurt to have a back-up plan in place if it ever got lost.   
  
No one knew who Sam Winchester  _was_ , after all.

_Sam on the Nightstand_ , by [foolscapper](http://foolscapper.tumblr.com/) (she runs the [asksamstuff ](http://asksamstuff.tumblr.com/)blog on tumblr, check it out!)  
  
The water turned off in the other room with a loud squeak, returning the world to silence. Sam fidgeted, reaching behind to push down on the rubbery volume up button on the TV remote to fill the room with white noise so he couldn't hear the  _tick tick_  of the lockpick in his memory. It wasn't here. It didn't exist, past his own mind.  
  
It was only another minute before Dean sauntered out of the bathroom in only his denim pants, toweling his hair dry. "Mornin,' sleepyhead," he greeted Sam, strolling over to the bed where the rest of his clothes were sitting.  
  
"You were up early," Sam commented dryly. He wasn't used to Dean being up before him in the morning, especially when they weren't on a case. Usually, he'd be the one up and out of bed at the crack of dawn, but the night before had been the first time he'd slept so deep in ages. His body hadn't woken up until long after the sunrise.  
  
"I think you mean  _you_  slept in," Dean shot back as he pulled a black tee shirt on over his head.  
  
Sam stayed quiet as he watched Dean fix his shirt over his rippling chest, slightly envious of the older hunter. He was fairly certain he was just as muscular as Dean in comparison, but when your brother's muscles were larger than you were tall, it was hard to tell. He couldn't put up much competition against one hand, never mind  _all_  of Dean.  
  
"So, anything good on?" Dean asked as he let himself fall on the bed next to Sam, hitting with an explosion of air that tousled Sam's hair.  
  
"Only if you consider the news good," Sam said, adjusting his position so he wasn't hanging off the edge of the stand, just in case Dean made any other sudden moves. The fall might not kill him, but he'd be right back where he started with broken bones if he fell. "I think I found us a new case though, the next state over."  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"  
  
"There's a town that got evacuated after it was hit with two natural disasters, completely unrelated. An earthquake last week, and a tornado yesterday. But!" He held up a hand to forestall anything from Dean until he was finished. "These two disasters hit exactly  _one week_  apart, down to the  _second_. The more superstitious citizens are calling it a curse on their lands."  
  
Dean sat up straighter. "What time did the disasters hit?"  
  
Thinking back, Sam grimaced. "Six seconds and six minutes after six o'clock."  
  
"Sounds right up our alley," Dean said. He slid over to the other side of the bed, grabbing something out of his duffel bag. "You sure you're up to it? We can always hang back if you need to rest more."  
  
Sam shook his head. "No way. I think it's time to get back out." He flexed his left arm, showing it to Dean. "I gotta get myself sharp again, been spending too much time resting."  
  
Dean grinned. "That's my boy." He held out his hand. "In that case, I think you'll be needing this. It's not part of your birthday present, because this is for both of us. You'll be needing it in the future."  
  
Sam walked over to the edge of the table, peering at what Dean had in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he examined it then glanced up at Dean again. "A... cell phone?"  
  
"Yep! Your very own." Dean placed it down next to Sam. It was far smaller than Dean's own, and wasn't a flip phone either. All of the buttons were on the outside so Sam wouldn't need to try and pry it apart. All in all, it was about three inches long, black, and Sam couldn't hope to carry it the way Dean did in a million years.  
  
Dean saw the confusion on his face. "Well, I was thinking, if anything comes up when I'm not around, you need an easy way to get in contact with someone who can help. So, it has my number, Bobby's number and Dad's number programmed in, and me and Bobby have your number." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Dad's still not answering my calls, and I didn't want to risk texting your number to him in case anyone else got hold of his phone, so he doesn't have it." He shrugged.  
  
Sam walked around the phone, taking it in from all angles. Testing the weight, he hefted it into his arms briefly before letting it slip to the ground again. He was smiling when he gazed back up at Dean. "This is amazing, Dean. I never..." his voice choked up, "I never thought I'd ever have anything like this."  
  
Dean gave Sam's hair a light brush with a finger, tousling the fluffy brown locks. "Hey, I gotta keep my little brother safe when I'm not around. I'm pretty sure you don't want to spend every day hanging out in my pockets, so this will help. All you gotta do is put out a call, and we'll be there." He grimaced. " 'Cept for Dad. Who knows what's going through that man's head."  Dean shook his head as he sat up on the bed. "I still can't believe he left without a word."  
  
Sam stepped away from the phone with a shrug. After seeing John looming over Walt like that, he couldn't say he'd been sad to see the hunter go. Walt had faced down two of his worst fears that day - two hunters, who had been dark and towering unknowns at the time. Sam could say without a doubt that Walt had come out on top, even when he'd gone head to head with John.  
  
"When should we leave?" Sam inquired.  
  
Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'd say we don't have to head out right away. It happens once a week, and we have the time, down to the second, when we'll be worrying about it next week. We should give ourselves a day or two of research when we get there, so I'd say we'll be leaving in four days."  
  
Sam stretched his arms over his head before heading over to the edge. "Sounds like a plan."  
  
When he reached the ground, he heard a  _snap_  overhead. Sam twisted around in surprise, finding Dean poised above him with a cell phone. Dean grinned innocently. "What?" he said. "I need a picture for you in my phone, since I'll be saving your number," he declared. He held it down for Sam to see.  
  
The picture wasn't the best quality, but Sam was surprised there was no way to tell he wasn't a normal, run-of-the-mill human. He was in the middle of taking a step, glancing over his shoulder. You could make out his fluffy hair, his casual jacket, even his satchel. The slightly blurry picture quality erased any way of telling Sam's clothing was handmade, unlike Dean's.  
  
Dean sat back up, straightening on the bed as he tucked his phone away. "So, I'll see you around?"  
  
"Yeah, Dean." Sam's face softened as he took a step back from the bed. "You bet."

* * *

  
Over the next four days, Sam slowly started to extract himself from life under the floorboards. He continued spending time with Bree and the others, and helping out around the house, but each night he'd return to the nightstand to sleep. Each morning he'd wake up and leave to see his family again, sometimes seeing Dean before he left, sometimes not. He would find Dean's amulet waiting for him each night, and after he left in the morning Dean would take it back. No words were ever said.  
  
None were needed.  
  
Walt took it in stride as Sam slowly resumed his life with Dean. Walt was always found with Sean in tow these days, following him around like a lost puppy. The boy had latched onto him as a surrogate father and there was no one more suited to help raise the boy than the man that had already raised up an out-of-place human. Kara trailed after Sean most days, but sometimes she would try and slip away to see Dean as much as she could.   
  
Walt was fast at catching her most of the time, but Dean continued watching his step for everyone's sake. She'd popped up one day while he was eating pizza in the room alone. That teeny tiny girl had managed to scale all the way up the enormous, towering table all on her own without ever being seen  _by a hunter_ , and one that was adjusted to people her size being around.  
  
By the time Walt managed to track her down, she was sitting on a book Dean found that was the perfect size for her little legs to reach the table, snacking on a tiny cut of pizza with the enormous hunter without flinching. Both had been acting like it was a perfectly normal meal, despite their disparity.  
  
Sam had found the three of them all in the room when he'd gotten back, eating pizza together like a regular family. He didn't say a word, just stood there hiding a smile at the sight of Walt sitting calmly next to Dean's relaxed arm, telling a story from the years Sam was growing up in the motel. Dean let out a laugh when Walt detailed Sam's attempts at raising a baby mouse he'd found as a child, hiding it in his room for a few weeks before Mallory had noticed. He'd had to return it to its mother, sad to see his buddy leave.  
  
All in all, the last few days were bittersweet. Sam slowly brought his possessions out from under the floorboards, relocating everything to under the nightstand. He always kept his new journal on him, loving that it didn't take up all the space in his satchel like the other one. This one he could keep on him all the time, leaving his larger journal with the desk. He shortened a few of the mechanical pencil leads as well so they'd fit better in his bag. With all the extras Dean had given him, he didn't even need to worry about any of the pencil leads breaking or fracturing.  
  
Then it came. Their last day at the motel.  
  
Sam had already said his goodbyes to the others under the dresser. He gave a sigh, glancing around the room from the nightstand one last time. Dean walked out of the bathroom, patting down his jacket to make sure everything was in its place.  
  
"You almost ready, pint-size?" he called over his shoulder as he grabbed the last of his supplies scattered in the room, shoving it all into his bag. Sam's room was already packed up, carefully put away and cushioned against damage from Dean's casual heavy-handedness.  
  
Sam gave a sigh, gathering himself. Then, he realized the alarm clock cord behind him was moving, slightly shifting like someone was climbing up. Sam's eyes widened as he saw who it was. "Dad!"  
  
Walt hauled himself up, then stepped to the side and helped up the next climber. Sam jogged over, grabbing Sean's arm to haul him up onto the surface. He was followed by Kara, then Bree. All of them had bags slung over their shoulder, even tiny Kara, who'd replaced her own worn gathering bag with a sturdier, hand-crafted bag from Walt.  
  
"Nice job, Sean!" Sam said with an encouraging grin. He'd been told Sean was still learning how to climb. He didn't have Sam's natural aptitude, so it was a work in progress.  
  
Walt smiled proudly down at the boy he'd taken under his wing. "His first time climbing up all on his own," he said, putting a hand on Sean's shoulder. "All to see the two of you off, and I, for one, think he did a great job."  
  
"I'll say," Dean said, grinning at the small group as he thudded over to the nightstand. His boots rattled the table under all four of them, but no one flinched back. Dean had proven himself enough to deserve that trust. "I don't think I could manage that climb."  
  
Sean blinked shyly up at Dean. "Really?" he asked, awed. He clutched Walt's pants, shifting close to his surrogate father, nervous at the sight of the giant so close. He liked being around Dean, but none of them were used to him standing over them.  
  
Sam gave Sean a stage whisper behind his hand, hoping to ease some of his nervousness with a joke. "Dean's afraid of heights." He winked. "He'd never make it that high off the ground."  
  
Sean and Kara giggled at that. Walt shook his head ruefully, and Bree hid a smile behind her hand. None of the could imagine life without climbing, but they tried to not make Dean feel self conscious about it. Climbing was simply a fact of life, what everyone did to get around, kind of like Dean driving the Impala.  
  
Dean sat down on the bed, the mattress creaking loudly under him. "Glad to see you guys one last time before we left. I was hoping you'd be around." This last part was said to Walt, the large green eyes locking on him.  
  
Walt didn't flinch away from the intense scrutiny. "Yes. Well. We shouldn't waste your time. I know you both plan on heading out." He turned to Sam. "I'm proud of you, Sam, and how you're becoming a hunter. That isn't something I ever expected to see from someone our size." He reached into his bag, withdrawing a pile of fabric. "So, we wanted to show our support."  
  
He handed them off to Sam one at a time. Sam unfolded the new clothing reverently. New shirts, new jackets... even new jeans, as well made as the ones that Mallory had crafted for him.   
  
"Krissy feels bad she's been so nervous around you," Bree explained. "She really wanted to come with us, but," she gestured vaguely in Dean's direction, "she hasn't quite gotten over her fear of your brother. So she gave us the clothes this morning. All made in your size. These should keep you going for some time before you need them replaced."  
  
Krissy was as good at the art of making new clothes as Mallory always had been. She took scraps of cloth found in empty rooms and even the coarse, rough doll clothes that Bree had come home with and carefully broke them down, yielding threads that humans considered 'frayed,' but were perfect for Krissy to reform into more suitable material for the far thinner, more delicate skin of Sam's people. She would unwind the frayed threads until they were far too small for a human to work with, but were the perfect size for her small hands. From there she was able to create a variety of clothing and adornments.  
  
Next, Kara bounced up to Sam with a huge grin. "Plus, new boots!" she giggled, pulling a pair out of her own small satchel. "You _can't_  just have one pair, silly!"  
  
Sam's eyes flicked over to Walt, who gave him a surreptitious nod, letting Sam know who'd made the boots. "Thanks, Kara!" he said, pulling her into a big hug. "I don't know where I'd be without another pair!"  
  
She bounced away happily, replaced by Sean. He was quiet as he pulled out two leather canteens. "Walt's been teaching me how to make these. I made this one all by myself!" By the time he finished, his head was proudly thrown back.  
  
Sam took them from the boy. "I'll remember that! I was never good with leather," he informed Sean. "Walt tried more than once to teach me, but I could never get the hang of it. You should be proud!"  
  
Bree handed him a few more shirts from her bag before giving him a huge hug. "Make sure to keep yourself safe, Sam." She kissed him on the cheek. "I'll want to hear some stories when you come back to visit."  
  
He hugged her back. He'd be sad to see them all leave.  
  
As Bree drew away from Sam, Walt stepped forward, facing Dean. At this point the hunter was leaning forward to see with his arms resting on his legs. "I'm glad Sam has you to rely on out there in the world, Dean. World's a dangerous place for one of us, after all." He turned so he could see Sam as well. "I can never thank either of you enough for bringing Bree home," he held up a hand to stall their protests, "and I don't want to hear that you owe me more."  
  
He dug in his bag, withdrawing one last item. "So, we might not make it a habit to 'give gifts' or 'celebrate' like you humans do, but I’m willing to make an exception for you boys. You've certainly earned it."  
  
He dropped his bag on the ground, holding out a thick strap of leather to Dean. "I talked to Sam a few times over the last two months about what you really do for a living, past the stigma of being a hunter, and he told me some of the details. One thing I learned is there are protective symbols and charms that can help you hunters stay safe, stay alive. So, I made this for you so you won't have to worry about demonic... possession?" he glanced at Sam briefly to make sure he'd got the wording right. Sam nodded back at Walt approvingly. Walt flipped over the strap, showing the anti-possession symbol he'd burned into the leather. "This ring should fit you, and there's a matching ring for Sam as well."  
  
Dean held his fingers out next to Walt, who slung it over the thick digits. Dean held it up to his eyes, inspecting the symbol with a smile. "Awesome," he said. He slipped it on, finding the perfect fit on his pinkie and holding it out for them to see. His eyes were glassy as he smiled at the ring. "This is... this is more than I ever expected. Thank you."  
  
Walt handed the smaller twin to Dean's ring over to Sam before stepping away. "Dean, I'd like you to know... I'd be proud to call a man like you my son."  
  
Dean gave Walt a respectful nod, stretching his hand out to the tiny man. "I'm proud to call you and Bree family. And Sean and Kara, of course." He gave the kids a wink. Walt hesitantly reached his hand out, trusting enough to let Dean shake the fragile limb once between his fingers. "Now, I have something for you."  
  
Dean took his hand back, reaching into one of the hidden pockets in his jacket. He held the card out to Walt. "You know how a phone works?"  
  
Walt nodded his head hesitantly, taking the large piece of paper into his hands. Dean indicated the number at the bottom. "If anything happens -  _anything_ , give this number a call. It's my number. Me and Sam will get here the second we can. You guys are family, and that's all that matters."  
  
Walt handed it over to Sean, whose eyes widened at the size of the business card (which was longer than he was tall). Crossing his arms behind his back, Walt turned to the two brothers. "I guess this is goodbye, then," he said, voice stern again.  
  
Sam hid a grin. He could hear the emotion Walt was hiding in his voice from them. Dean's gesture had hit a chord in the smaller man. Respecting Walt, he chose not to bring it up and instead scooped the two kids into a quick hug before embracing Walt and Bree. "I'll miss you guys," Sam said. He gave Bree a peck on the forehead before stepping away towards Dean, who had already scooped up the rest of the gifts Sam had been given and stashed them away somewhere in his jacket.  
  
"Take care."

* * *

 

A/N

Time to move on to the next case! The fun begins next chapter ;)

Public notice: Update times for my chapters will change starting next week. I'll be posting 10pm EST Thursday nights, just because I can't be awake at midnight on a work night. I'm sure no one will mind since that means you get the chapter earlier!


	5. Come With Me

Dean hesitated after closing the door of the motel behind him, reluctant to leave the room behind after spending so long there.  
  
Sam poked his head out of Dean's chest pocket. They'd decided it was safer to have him out of sight while at the motel his family lived in. Anyone seeing Sam might be curious enough to search for others like him, putting everyone at ris. Both brothers refused to take that chance, unwilling to put people in danger for the sake of convenience. And so Sam was out of sight.  
  
"What's the matter?" Sam called up to Dean, faint concern tinting his voice.  
  
"Nothin,' just..." Dean frowned to himself before he decided what was missing. He placed the **DO NOT DISTURB** sign back on the door handle, nodding in satisfaction. "There. Now they won't be disturbed for at least another five days, with any luck." That was how long the room had until the days Dean had paid for ran out. The case had them leaving early, but that money would be put to good use if it kept Sam's family safe a little longer.  
  
He swung around, swift strides taking him to the Impala.  
  
Sam settled back down out of sight. "You're worried about them, aren't you?"  
  
"Of course I'm worried about them," Dean said. "I hate the thought of what's  _already_  happened to them. They've gone through so much because of humans. Not even monsters like our usual gigs - humans, Sam, humans!" He shook his head angrily. "At least monsters and demons, I get. They do what they do and they're evil sons of bitches that need to be put down. But humans, man. There's no reason for what happened to Bree, Christian and Mikael, none at all past greed. Not to mention what they did to _you_ while you were there."  
  
Arriving at the car, Dean tossed the duffel in the backseat before settling with Sam in the front. While Dean turned the Impala on, Sam took it upon himself to climb out of the pocket to Dean's shoulder so they could talk easier. So far, his healing arm hadn't given him any problems when he'd tried to use it and he might even be up to scaling the heights with his fishing line once again. Sam found himself eager to find out.  
  
Sam leaned an arm against Dean's neck. "Dean, they'll be fine. Walt's there, and no one is better at staying undetected, trust me. Where do you think I learned it all in the first place?"  
  
With a sigh, Dean turned his attention to the car. "Yeah, I guess. It just doesn't feel right, leavin' them behind like that, especially as vulnerable as they can be."  
  
"Don't forget, you left them your card. That's a huge plus, being able to actually call a human for help and be able to count on him showing up. Dean, you have  _no idea_  sometimes what an alien thought it is to have a  _human_  willing to help out. It even took me time to get used to the thought with you at first, and I was a human before, not to mention you're my _brother._ "  
  
Dean reached up, giving Sam's shoulder a light, gentle nudge. Past a slight jump of surprise, Sam managed to not react. Dean was glad to see Sam getting less skittish around him again. After all his work over the months of being with Sam, he'd been afraid it had been undone by the harsh actions and words of those disgusting people that had captured his little brother. If he needed to start from the beginning again, he would, but he just hated that it was being forced on them by an awful act he'd had nothing to do with.  _Sam... if only I'd been able to find you sooner, get you and the others out of that terrible place... I'll do anything to earn your trust back._  "Sam, you're still a human, no matter your size. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they'll have me to answer to, and I'll make them regret it, no matter  _who_  they are."  
  
Sam settled down, relaxing against Dean's neck with his hands over his head. "I'm counting on that, y'know."  
  
Dean smirked as he pulled into the road, heading towards their next case. "I know it."

* * *

  
An hour into the long drive, Dean decided it was time to bring up an idea he'd had recently. "Sam?"  
  
There was a slight shifting on his shoulder. Sam had been relaxing with his brand new journal, unable to resist filling in the first few pages with the events of the last few months. Sketches of the anti-possession symbol on his ring peppered the margins. "What's up?" he inquired curiously.  
  
"Well, I was trying to think of ways for us to prepare for anything happening with you. For when I'm not around, of course."  
  
Sam was quiet for a long moment. Then, "What did you have in mind?"  
  
Dean grinned, glad Sam hadn't shot him down. He'd been worried Sam would take it the wrong way, or even get offended if he thought Dean didn't consider him able to take care of himself. "For one thing, some basic lessons in self-defense. I know we aren't that worried about you getting attacked by someone your size, but if there's something I've learned the last few months, it's that danger can come from anywhere. I mean, I finished a case where humans were hunting humans for sport, and you got caught and almost sold off as a pet by a different set of humans!"  
  
"You've got a good point there," Sam admitted, "but how are you planning on teaching me anything like that? I can't exactly spar with you one on one."  
  
"True," Dean conceded, "but I have a plan. We'll give it a try one night when we have a room with some space." Even though Sam was out of sight of his face, Dean couldn't help arching his eyebrows. "That way, I don't bump into any furniture when I demonstrate."  
  
Sam snickered at the thought. "What, you didn't want any new bruises or scars from practice?"  
  
"No thanks, pint-size. I'll stick to just the monster-inflicted damage." Dean sat back a little, peeking over at his GPS for directions. The world outside was sparsely scattered with trees, not another car in sight for miles. He edged the Impala up closer to 80 MPH, trying to kill some distance without worrying about being pulled over.  
  
Sam continued to mull over Dean's idea. "Do you think I should start up a workout routine like you do in the morning?"  
  
"Definitely, if you're up to it. I can even show you some good stretches to start out with if you like."  
  
Sam nodded to himself, building on the idea. He wanted to do everything he could to get an edge in the world, and this would certainly be a starting point. "I can jog in the morning, too. I've never really been anywhere that's safe enough, or large enough, to risk running, but with you around in a room, I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem."  
  
"Definitely," Dean agreed. "You want to run, help yourself. Just... make sure if you're running across any pathways, that I know you're there, alright?" He reached up, tousling Sam's hair gently. "I need my little brother in one piece, and not squashed."  
  
Sam batted his finger away. "I'd never forget  _that_ , jerk. What do you take me for?"  
  
"Hmmm... I'd have to say, my four-inch-tall brother," Dean said warmly.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes before leaning back and closing his eyes for a bit. "Ass."

* * *

  
It was about five in the afternoon when they at last pulled up to the only house left standing on the side of town that had been hit by the disasters.  
  
Upon arriving in town, Dean had posed as a reporter for the  _Weekly World News,_  after stopping at a Kinkos on the way to make himself a fake ID for the role. Sam had been fascinated to learn how it was done, having grown up watching their father do the same thing all the time. Dean had patiently walked Sam through each step, even answering his younger brother's steady stream of questions the entire time. No matter that Sam was too small for these skills to be useful, he wanted to know everything there was to know about being a hunter, and Dean enjoyed teaching him.  
  
Once it was all done, Dean had held it up for comparison against the ID he'd lifted off a reporter a few weeks back, making sure it matched perfectly. Sam had given it his seal of approval after taking a much closer look than Dean was able to due to his size, far better equipped to spot any discrepancies. His eyes were keen enough to spot differences in the font that were invisible to humans.  
  
Once that was done, they popped in at the local news station. Dean casually swaggered his way right on in, hitting up any of the women he could for news with his easygoing way of talking drawing them into discussions despite themselves. Sam hid a grin inside Dean's side pocket, amused by how easy Dean made it seem. Even the men answered his questions, biting down their suspicions at his confidence.  
  
From them they'd learned about how one house still stood on its own across town. Surrounded by devastation, it was in pristine condition. Not even the debris from the tornado had damaged the trees planted around the perimeter, and it was like the earthquake had never even hit. For some strange reason, it was unblemished.  
  
Deciding that was their best lead, Sam and Dean had chosen it for their next destination.  
  
The residents of the house had vacated along with their neighbors during the evacuation that the town had held. No one wanted to tempt fate anymore than had already been done. Amazingly, so far there had been very few casualties. A few broken bones, some scratched knees, along with an accident when cars had been trying to 'outrun' the tornado, and hadn't seen the tree leap in front of the fender of the car.  
  
Dean gave the house a discerning glance. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this house had the luck of the devil."  
  
Sam leaned forward, trying to peer around Dean's neck. He was sitting on Dean's right shoulder, away from the window, putting Dean right in his way. His eyes went wide when he saw what Dean was talking about.  
  
Green grass rustled in the gentle evening breeze, unblemished by the destruction in the surrounding areas. Whereas the other houses in the area had been reduced to rubble or had collapsed walls and floors, this house stood tall, not even one window shattered.  
  
"What do you think could do that?" Sam asked curiously. "I've never read of anything in Dad's journal like this."  
  
Dean made a face, considering. "Not sure," he admitted. "We're going to need a lot more information on this one." He checked the clock in the car. "Luckily, we still have at least two hours until the 'disaster of the week' hits, and I plan on not being near this area by then." He climbed out, slamming the door behind him. "This is the best lead we got."  
  
The house was locked. Sam remained perched on Dean's shoulder while the hunter dug out his lockpick, settling to try and break in. He kept a sharp eye out, relying on that sixth sense he'd come to recognize as being caused by humans that could see him. If Sam was right about that sense, it didn't matter whether he could see them or not. He'd felt John's eyes without even knowing the man was in the motel room, waiting for them.  
  
"Ah-ha!" Dean said triumphantly, the door clicking open. A low squeak came from the door as he pushed it the rest of the way open, the hinges badly in need of WD-40.   
  
Sam gripped tight to Dean's collar as he looked around. "Nice place," he noted.  
  
From the entryway alone, there was a sense of order to everything in the home. Beautiful red roses were in a vase to the side of the door, filling the air with a fragrance before they gave in to the depredations of time and abandonment. The floor was pristine with a welcome mat under Dean's boots that said  _The Neighbors Have Better Stuff._ Dean smirked at that.  
  
"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked as Dean went through the living room.  
  
Dean considered. "You up to checking around?" he asked, to Sam's surprise.  
  
Sam gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I thought you'd want to keep me close so you could watch me."  
  
"Sure, if you want, but you've got a bit of an advantage over me when it comes to checking out nooks and crannies." Dean held up a hand with a smirk, making fun of the way they both knew he couldn't even fit  _that_ into the tunnels Sam had lived in, then went on. "There isn't a soul left on this side of town, so it's as good a time as any for you to get back into the swing of hunting again."  
  
Sam grinned at that. "It's not my fault your big hands get in the way," he snarked gamely. "If you want, I could check things out on the ground floor while you go around and scope out upstairs."  
  
"Sounds like we've got a plan," Dean said as he lowered Sam down next to his feet. "I'll only be upstairs for a bit, you keep out of trouble, alright?"  
  
Sam took off the moment he could without glancing back at the giant hunter. He waved Dean off over his shoulder. " _You're_  the one that needs to stay out of trouble and we both know it!"  
  
Dean smirked at that, then bobbed his head in agreement. "Mabye."  
  
Sam heard (and felt) Dean's footsteps move away, then pound up the flight of stairs. An abandoned glass on the coffee table nearby rattled from the force.  _It's not just me_ , Sam thought to himself triumphantly, then focused on his job.  
  
He took his time checking under and around the furniture in the living room, paying close attention to any hidden corners. Dean would hit the room again after he was done and check anywhere obvious, so Sam needed to focus his efforts. It felt good to be able to do this without Dean hovering over him. Knowing that he had Dean's support to do things on his own gave him a surge of confidence. Dean trusted him to do this job on his own.

* * *

  
Dean grumbled to himself as he tossed some spare suits out of the closet in the master bedroom. Truthfully, he didn't know what they were looking for, so he settled for searching through everything. Messily. With Sam downstairs he didn't have to worry about throwing clothes on the little guy and not noticing.  
  
If only he _knew_  what was going on, he wouldn't have to waste their time digging through someone's house like this. But, two natural disasters, spaced an unnatural time apart and neither hitting one specific house? He'd never heard of anything like it.  
  
Maybe they were going about it the wrong way. If hexbags could be created that protected a person, there was a chance someone could make a hexbag that could protect a  _house_ , right? It had to be a possibility.  
  
But the family had evacuated with everyone else. If they knew the house was protected, why would they leave?  
  
Dean mulled that over as he made his way through the other rooms upstairs. He'd have to get Sam to check out the rest of the upstairs and make sure Dean hadn't missed anything once finished downstairs.  
  
The last room he stepped into practically blinded him. Pink. Pink  _everywhere_. "Holy  _crap_ ," Dean said, unprepared for so much blindingly matching color. Pink shades, walls, rug... the bed was covered in a variety of hearts that ranged from deep, blood red all the way to the light, fluffy pinks of Valentine's Day. He was almost afraid to touch anything in there, it was all  _perfect_ and arranged  _just so_. It gave him the impression he was in a museum, where items were placed to look at but never touch.  
  
Dolls and teddy bears covered the pillows on the bed, and barbies were on stands on the shelves in the room. Dean found a picture with a graduate and what must be her mother. His eyebrows went up as he realized it wasn't the room of a six year old girl, but a high school  _grad._  
  
He was about to leave the room when he paused. He could almost swear he could hear  _singing._

* * *

  
Sam made his way into the kitchen. Tall, towering furniture and appliances filled the room. He gave a brief shudder, remembering his time trapped in the kitchen of the Mangas residence.  _You're fine,_ he thought to himself, keeping that thought strong in his mind.  _The only person here is Dean. You'd hear if anyone else entered the house and you've got plenty of time to make it to safety if that happens._  
  
He could hear the rumble of Dean's footsteps overhead on occasion as his brother continued with his own search upstairs, letting Sam know the hunter's location at all times. He was glad for that. At least his senses were good enough that he wouldn't have to worry about Dean sneaking up on him, accidentally or not. He needed to work on that, so he wasn't caught off guard ever again by humans the way Isabelle and Nicholas had managed to do.  
  
Sam wandered over to the island in the center of the kitchen, staring up at the towering, cliff-like furniture. The back of his neck tingled, giving him a sense of foreboding. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was being  _watched_. But that wasn't right. If there were any humans around, he'd know it.  
  
Trying to push away his sudden trepidation, Sam started to climb up the ornately carved furniture. The deep wood swirls and swoops gave him plenty of handholds, making it so he didn't need to get his fishhook out. Sam took his time, keeping as quiet as possible in case there was danger nearby. Whatever had caused the natural disasters in this town was a complete unknown. Anything could be lying in wait inside the house, from demons to something never before seen on earth.  
  
Sam was starting to wonder if he and Dean should have stuck together.

* * *

  
Dean had his gun out, pointed at the ground as he turned in place, trying to find the source of the song he could hear. "Is anyone there?" he called out, instincts on full. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."  
  
A  _whoosh_  came from near his right side. He whipped around, bringing the gun to bear.  
  
Nothing was there.  
  
Taking a few steps deeper into the room, Dean called out again, "I don't know who you are, but I know you're in here."  
  
He pushed the curtain out of the way of the window, checking to see if anyone or anything was hiding behind it. Nothing there. A grim sky hung overhead, deep clouds starting to block out the day. A storm was coming.  
  
"Show yourself."  
  
There was a giggle from behind him. Dean twisted in place. This time, a flash of red could be seen slipping behind the dresser in the room. A teddy bear twitched on the bed at the same time, and the curtain drifted in an invisible breeze.  
  
Dean caught sight of another fast movement in the corner of his eye. He whipped around, catching sight of his antagonist at last.   
  
His eyes went wide.

* * *

  
Sam hauled himself to the countertop at last, slipping behind a coffee cup that was almost the same height as him. He peered around the edge, trying to see what was sitting in the center of the island, because there was something there out of place.  
  
At first it could have been mistaken for a doll or an action figure.  
  
Deep red hair flowed down her back, cascading from an almost black shade to the lighter hues found in a volcano. Slim, delicate shoulders had a cape draped over them, reflecting the sun as it peeked out from behind the stormclouds outside. The light hit the cape and diffused into a million sparkles, spreading out from the figure in ever-widening circles of light. A flower was carefully tucked in her hair. Sam almost thought it was a tiger lily, only it was far too small, barely the size of his palm.  
  
She shifted, eyes opening as she glanced away from the counter under her.  
  
Sam was caught in the gaze of two eyes, twin red orbs that spotted his hiding spot immediately. The tingling on his neck burst into flame, propelled by a sense of  _wrongness._  She was like no one he'd ever seen before, but those eyes... for some reason those eyes seemed familiar.

[Ilyana](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/art/Ilyana-527469444) by [Obsess-Confess](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/)  
  
"Sam Winchester."  
  
Sam almost jumped at the voice. It was feminine, deep, and commanding. It ordered him, in tone alone, to heed her words and obey. It was the voice of a monarch, spoken with all the authority of a queen.  
  
He stepped out from behind the coffee cup, knowing that continuing to hide would be pointless. "Who are you?" he demanded. "How do you know me? How do you know my name?"  
  
She blinked slowly, moving to stand up. Sam was caught again in those eyes, those oh-so-familiar eyes as she began to straighten. The cape draped casually around her shoulders unfolded, reflecting the sun in a scattering of rainbows in the room.  
  
It wasn't a cape.  
  
Two delicate dragon wings stretched to their full span, reaching almost a foot in length. The iridescent red membrane threw the light whenever the sun fell on them. She rolled her shoulders, casually flexing the claws on each wing as she faced him.  
  
"Sam Winchester. You will come with me. All will be as it is meant to be."  
  
With this, she stepped towards him. Her dress rippled around her as she moved, making it flow almost naturally out of the way of her wings. It was clear the fabric was not a natural creation. Sam found himself enthralled by her clear command, her assured confidence. She knew what was going to happen and nothing would change that.  
  
He found himself taking a step towards her, drawn to those red orbs. There were no pupils, giving them a clear, glittering strength. She held out her hand, waiting for him to take it. Sam reached up as he neared her, fingertips almost brushing the pale, almost translucent skin. This was meant to be.   
  
This had to happen.  
  
A gunshot rang out overhead.  
  
Sam jerked back, gasping at the volume. "Dean?" he cried out as her touch on his mind shattered. He stepped away from the girl, realizing where he recognized those eyes from.  
  
Nixie.  
  
If this girl had been blue, with dragonfly wings, she'd be a dead ringer for the erstwhile sprite they'd discovered in Dean's pocket all those months ago. She was the same height, with hair very close to how Nixie's had been. Her red eyes glared at him, upset as he pulled away. A brief snarl revealed deadly sharp fangs.  
  
The anger vanished from her expression, but Sam wasn't fooled. She was only hiding it.  
  
"Sam Winchester, you are needed. You must come," she said, her voice urgent as she beckoned him to her.  
  
"No, I  _must_  stay here, unless you can give me a damn good reason why I should abandon my brother," Sam gritted out, resisting the pull of those magnetic eyes. Her gaze tried to draw him in against his will, almost forcing his own thoughts away as she stepped towards him again.  
  
"Dean Winchester is  _not_  needed. He will be taken care of." Her voice fell like stones around him.  
  
There were more gunshots from overhead. Sam stumbled over his own feet, trying to stay back from her at the same time as he glanced at the ceiling. "What are you doing to him?" Sam gritted between his teeth. "Leave my brother alone."  
  
"He is not of your concern anymore." This time she didn't stop at that. With a flap of her powerful wings, she landed less than an inch from Sam, reaching for him with a coiled hand.  
  
Sam pulled his knife out. "I don't know who or what you are," he growled, "but I do know I'm not going anywhere with  _you_."  
  
Her eyes flashed at the sight of his knife. "Why do you not  _listen?_  " she demanded. " _You_  are needed.  _He_  is not. This is simple."  
  
Sam smirked briefly. "Guess it's that damn Winchester stubbornness," he goaded. This time when she reached for him, he was ready. He ducked under her grab, slashing with his knife. She twisted agilely out of the way, a gust of air hitting him as she backed off a few inches.  
  
Red eyes glowed as she started to chant.

* * *

  
Dean cursed as he aimed again. It was like a whirlwind. A fiery whirlwind. Small, winged girls surrounded him, laughing at his futile attempts to hit them. They dodged every blow he sent their way, danced around his knife without a problem. The one time he'd managed to hit one, she'd reappeared, brought back by another without a moment's hesitation.  
  
Fire lapped at each flap of their wings. The bed was already on fire, lit up the moment Dean had pulled his gun out. One of the girls hovered over it, small hands full of her own flames. While the others worked at distracting Dean, she smirked, concentrating the power around the bed into a ball of her own.  
  
A massive fireball launched at Dean. He dove to the side with a curse, aiming at the girl. With a  _BANG,_  the bullet hit, sending her into a puff of smoke like the last one he'd hit. And bare seconds later, she was back, brought to life by the others.  
  
Dean had his jacket off, using it to block the flames that lapped at his feet, at his face. He waved it as another fireball was thrown at him, trying to redirect the power. This fireball slammed into the dresser, sending everything on it into the fiery dance of death.  
  
Taking advantage of that explosion, Dean backed out the door, sending two more shots into the room to buy himself time as the speedy little dragon girls dove after him. The door slammed in their faces.   
  
Dean slumped, breathing heavily as the rush caught up to him.  _Sam._.. who knew what his little brother had run into downstairs, considering Dean's own problems up here. He had to get to him.  
  
That was all he had time to think about as the door burst into flame, quickly becoming useless for stopping the rage of the girls trying to kill him.  
  
Dean ran for the stairs.

* * *

  
Uncertain, Sam backed away. The girl's hair flowed around her in a nonexistent breeze as she began to chant words he'd never heard before in a language he didn't recognize.  
  
Suddenly she shrieked in anger. Her fists clenched and the dragonlike wings sprang open. A firestorm erupted around her as her rage was concentrated on Sam, expanding outwards in a cyclone. It closed the ground between them in seconds. With a gasp, Sam ran.  
  
The fire lapped at his heels as his strides lengthened. He needed to get away. He needed to find Dean. But in seconds, there was no time for thought. The edge of the counter was there.  
  
With no time to spare, and a twisting whirlwind of flames closing in on him, Sam leaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, she has finally entered the scene in a surprise ambush for Sam and Dean. What's going to happen to Sammy?!
> 
> New 10pm EST scheduling for chapter updates in effect.
> 
> Next chapter arrives September 11th (ish) - I still consider my story Friday updates xD I just get too sleepy for midnight posting.


	6. Give Yourself Over

Sam had barely become airborne when his world went dark and something huge slammed into him. He let out a gasp, trying to escape as fingers his size coiled around him and held tight.   
  
His mind started to catch up as he realized it was Dean above him, sweeping his huge jacket through the torrent of fire that wanted to consume them both. Dean sprang back a few feet, giving them space from the counter even as he peered down at his hand. "You alright?" he asked, out of breath from his rush to catch Sam in time.  
  
"I'm fi-- Dean, LOOK OUT!" Sam cried out as he spotted more girls just like the one that had tried to kill him suddenly circling Dean like sharks in the water.  
  
Dean dove backwards, his hand flattening Sam against his stomach while he tried to block the flames from them both. He  _almost_ succeeded. The problem was, there was a lot more of Dean to protect than there was of Sam. His leg caught fire, hungry red tongues of flame licking up his side. With a hissed growl, Dean smothered the fire with his jacket before it could spread further.  
  
Sam wriggled in Dean's grasp, trying to get his attention. He had an idea. It came to him as his satchel dug into his side, compressed into him by his huge brother's grip. A voice came to him, from so many months ago... his very first case...  _If you are ever in dire need, break this and I or a sister of mine will come to you..._  the orb itself dug into Sam's side, calling his attention down on it.  
  
"Dean!" he shouted, desperate. If they had ever been in dire need, this was it.  
  
Dean jumped out of the way of another fireball as he heard Sam's voice, almost too soft to make out over the raging torrent of fire. The entire house was up in flame now, fire spreading to all the rooms. In a few seconds, they wouldn't need to hit him with fire. The brothers would suffocate or die in the flames regardless.  
  
Pulling his hand away, Dean spared Sam a second's glance in the brief lull between fireballs. "What?" he hissed, his eyes back on the fiery antagonists. A fireball hit against his arm from his seconds of inattention, singing the bracelet from his wrist. It dropped to the ground, still aflame.  
  
Sam pulled himself up, legs wobbly as he tried to recover from being crushed against Dean. "This!" he called up, pulling out the shining blue orb. "We need to break it!"  
  
Dean twisted out of the way of another fireball, waving his jacket to ward it off. He could feel the flames licking at his back now, closing in on him. "Do it!" he cried out, his voice hoarse with pain.  
  
Sam held up the orb, then slammed it straight down at the floor. It plummeted off the side of Dean's hand, then smashed into a thousand fragments.  
  
The world went white.  


* * *

  
Morning dew glistened on the soft petals of the flowers, drawn to open by the gentle rays of the sun. A beautiful field stretched in all directions, leading to the edge of the lush, thriving forest. Small birds called out, mating cries filling the air even as other birds foraged for seed to feed their young. An idyllic, deceptive peace filled the land.  
  
The gently waving grass was disturbed for a moment as two small, blue figures streaked through it, wings buzzing in their hurry. The birds took no notice, more interested in a small cloud of flies disturbed by the small sprites passage.  
  
Nixie, her heart full of worry, pushed herself to the limit of her flying ability. Her sister Aretha was hard pressed to keep up, her smaller wings straining at the air.  
  
"Nixie, this is foolishness!" Aretha called out breathlessly as she pushed herself to the limit. "We are not welcome with the others."  
  
Nixie flipped over onto her back. "How can you say that? There is no reason for this to have happened, sister. The others  _must_  be warned."  
  
Her movement slowed her down, allowing the smaller sprite to catch up. "The others have no wish for our warning. They only wish to be left alone."  
  
Nixie's blue eyes flashed at this. "They wish to be left alone. Yes. But when almost all of the earth sprites vanish, followed by nearly all of the air sprites seven days later, questions must be asked. And answered. There is no other way."  
  
Aretha sighed, dropping a few feet down in the air to brush over the tall grass. They were fast closing on the edge of the meadow, towards the rocky lands of the others sprites. "The earth sprites will not answer, and you  _know_  how air sprites can be. This is a futile quest."  
  
Nixie's lip twitched into a smile. "Yes. I know, as do we all. But the effort must be put forth. And did you not hear of what happened with the fire sprites?"  
  
Aretha's blue eyes widened. Her colors were a far lighter sky blue than Nixie's, born of her love of rain, the freedom of the clouds. Nixie herself spent most of her time in the deep springs and ponds in their lush forest, spending her days coaxing the plants to their full growth. "This has spread to the fire sprites?"  
  
"Yes. They have vanished, leaving only those in the volcano. I must find out why. If the human world has been put at risk because of our sisters, we must stop it. That is our purpose, after all."  
  
Aretha arched her eyebrow at Nixie. "One could argue our purpose is at an end with our brother imprisoned."  
  
"That is  _not_  true," Nixie argued back, falling into the familiar quarrel. " _He_  may be a captive now, yes. But we were created for more than that, for keeping  _balance_  in the world. Have you forgotten this already? The human world cannot be put at risk because we want to sleep-the-eternal-sleep, or have you forgotten that you and I cannot die?"  
  
Aretha snorted. "Just because we are lost to death does not mean we are to toil our lives away in service to those we have never seen."  
  
Nixie flitted away, her wings on overdrive. Aretha continued to follow, not giving up her mission to talk Nixie out of her determined quest.  
  
Nixie glanced back, taking a small amount of pride at the way she easily outdistanced her sister. "The humans deserve our help, sister! Or have you and the others forgotten  _why_  our dark brother is no longer a threat?"  
  
"So you continually affirm!" Aretha shouted back breathlessly. "But how do you know this Sam-and-Dean that you speak so highly of were not just using you for their own gain? You said yourself that Lityerses put their world at risk by being there."  
  
"You do not know of what you speak!" This statement came with assurance and rebuttal. Nixie gestured curtly with her arm. "Or have you forgotten the ability to read the hearts of others so soon?"  
  
There was no reply. Aretha simply continued to follow with Nixie, dancing over the rocky lands between the forest and the great volcano, Dormit Flos.  
  
After a time, Nixie became aware of a sight above her head. Two air sprites were dancing in the clouds, forming them into familiar shapes as they played a game together.  
  
Changing her trajectory, Nixie shot into the sky. She lifted up far faster than her sister could follow, her path set on the closest air sprite, Cersei.  
  
Cersei's golden eyes took in her older sister's arrival without surprise. She would have had to hide under a rock to avoid the knowledge that the water sprites were demanding answers. Beautiful white-feathered wings arched from her shoulders, flapping in the breeze as she considered her options. A single brown steak of feathers down each wing was all that separated her from the other playing in the clouds that day.  
  
Nixie spread her wings, hovering as she tried to read the other sprite. Air sprites were fickle and capricious, very dangerous to approach at the best of times. She could get no read on Cersei, blocked as she was by a determined wall.  
  
"Sister! I would speak with you!" Nixie called out.  
  
Cersei snorted. "I would not speak with you or any other sprite. Leave us."  
  
With that, a whirlwind twisted around the air sprite, carrying her away from the two water sprites even as Aretha caught up at last, smaller wings straining. A gust of wind buffeted them both, sending Aretha into a spiral and Nixie into a daze.  
  
Coming out of it, she saw Aretha's plight and dove at the ground, catching the other woman smoothly. She glanced up at the sky as Aretha slipped from her arms to fly on her own again.  
  
The air sprites were gone.  
  
Nixie sighed. That left one option, the most undesirable option of all with the earth sprites out of reach in their underground caverns.  
  
"Aretha, you must return home. I go to speak with the fire sprites in their volcano."  
  
To say the look in Aretha's eyes was surprised would be putting it mildly. "You cannot take that risk on your own!" she exclaimed.  
  
Nixie pushed her away. "I can ask no others to take this risk for me. Leave."  
  
She darted off, leaving a surprised Aretha behind.  


* * *

  
The rocky land changed below her swiftly. It darkened, the shrub brush barely clinging to life in the hostile environment. There was very little water to be found here in the land of the fire sprites.  
  
Nixie carefully took a few moments to gather the drops from a small trickle down a cliff, imbuing the droplets of water in her hair. The small amount of water would strengthen her against the volcano, help her resist its flames. Water sprites, though immortal, _could_  be hurt. And in this land of fire and rock, it would take time for her sisters to find her and heal her. She was not eager to be reduced to nothing more than a cloud of thought once more. The last few hundred years she'd spent like that because of Lityerses had been torture.  
  
With that taken care of, Nixie shot towards the volcano.  
  
The rocky outcroppings grew in size as the ground passed swiftly below her. She began to see small fire-drakes, little red wings stretched out for sunning in the brief break between clouds. The sun reflected off those wings as it was shattered into a thousand different colors.  
  
Nixie smiled at the small fire-drakes, one of the few lifeforms that made their home with the fire sprites. The two lived in perfect harmony, driven by the sprites’ affinity with the small, frog-like dragons. As a fire sprite aged, she started to take on the features and forms of the little fire-drakes, down to the small scales that covered their bodies. Younger sprites would only have the glistening wings of a drake, while the older sprites would take on more, including the spikes, claws and even the tails. Nixie had once heard of a fire sprite that had chosen to take on the form of a fire-drake, exchanging her elemental bond for the peace of the drakes.  
  
There were more and more of the little drakes around as she passed into the first tunnel of the volcano. Swift jets of magma shot up, spraying around burning lava. Nixie easily dodged around the sprays, allowing her natural affinity for flight to guide her.  
  
It wasn't long before she passed into the main cavern of the volcano. Deep crevices reached into the ground, a red glow spilling forth from them. Lava flowed in intricate patterns, formed by the sprites themselves into pleasing shapes. Nixie paused in midair once she reached the center of the cavern.  
  
She called out to one of the sprites hanging around the edge of the room, watching the blue intruder in their sanctum of fire. "I would speak with my sister, child."  
  
The young sprite blinked in surprise at the brash water sprite, caught off guard by her forthrightness. "I... I shall find her for you."  
  
"Do so." Nixie settled in as the young sprite dove down into the deep cracks, diving deep into the lava. It rippled at her passage, showing her to move through the molten rock like a water sprite moved through water. Nixie took a moment to compose herself.  
  
The lava rippled once more after the small, young sprite's passage. A clawed hand grabbed hold of the rock jutting over it, pulling out the most ancient of the fire sprites. Nixie waited patiently as the matriarch of their race brought herself to a stand.  
  
Deep wrinkles lined her face, stretching over every instance of skin she had. Her arms had delicate scales stretching down each side, ending at the thick, black claws found on each finger. Blades jutted forth from each of her elbows, honed to a fine edge over the millennia. They matched the sharp claws on each of her ridged, powerful dragon wings that arched over her head, stiffening in the cooler air of the room. Deep, molten red eyes gazed out at the small water sprite that dared to enter her domain. A long, spiked tail curled around her clawed feet. Her hair was a fiery red, lightening to a color that was almost crystal clear at the ends with her age. Spikes rippled through her hair, intermixed with the stands to symbolize her age.  
  
Facing the ancient one, Nixie crossed her arms. It was a pose she'd seen the small human Sam Winchester assume when facing down his brother, someone far stronger than him that he would have no control over if Dean didn't give the control over to him. An odd pair but a useful stance, especially when one was standing against those more powerful.  
  
In this instance, Nixie understood that the fire sprite before her - the matriarch, oldest and first of the fire sprites - was not all she was facing down. The dweller-in-the-deep  _was_  powerful, almost as powerful as Nixie herself, unlike the majority of fire sprites, but if this went down the wrong way, Nixie would become beset by all fire sprites around and the power of Dormit Flos itself. No little water sprite, no matter how ancient she was, could stand against such power. After that attack, she would live on, but it would be a poor life, reduced to scattered water drops in the sky until she slowly reformed herself with the cleansing rain or a sister found her and healed her.  
  
The lava surged, sparks and flashes of power shooting up to frame the matriarch of the fire sprites, the only fire sprite that had lived almost as long as Nixie herself.  
  
Though for a water sprite it was normal to exist for an eternity, it was a near impossibility for a fire sprite to manage such a feat. They were tied to their element in much the same way as Nixie was herself. While the waters-of-the-world had been there since the beginning and would be there until the end, the fires that gave birth to the fire sprites were fleeting bursts of energy. In this same fashion, the life of a fire sprite was short and passionate, rarely lasting past a hundred years. Their existence was an eternity of death and rebirth, rising from the ashes when the next flame was born.  
  
That was what made the matriarch so unique. As long as she remained where the lava flowed and their fires thrived, she would continue to exist. She drew her strength from the eternal energy of the volcano. It would be a harsh existence - to leave the volcano at her stage of life would be to court death, and all fire sprites were drawn to adventure and exploration - but it was an existence she had chosen, to pass down the stories and legends of the fire sprites, and ensure their past was not forgotten.  
  
This was the reason Nixie had come. If anyone was to know what had happened to the other fire sprites, the matriarch would. If anyone was too understand why this had to be stopped, it would be the matriarch.  
  
"Sister," she greeted.  
  
The matriarch drew herself up. Long, powerful wings swept forward, disturbing the red sparks of the flames. "Child, why have you come to this place?"  
  
Nixie allowed confidence to bathe her in its warm glow. Anything less than complete confidence would erode her cause. "Child. You call me this as though I am not the elder."  
  
The matriarch frowned at her with a sigh of resignation. She wasn't use to being talked back to by anyone, and it was many decades since she'd talked with an equal like Nixie. "Nixie, why have you come? It has been a millennia since a water sprite has graced our volcano with her presence."  
  
"That, my sister, is something you already know," Nixie said, unimpressed by the other's words. "It is unfortunate we do not visit often. You know, as well as I do, the reason for that."  
  
The matriarch bared her fangs in anger. "It was not the doing of all of us, that attack."  
  
"But the fact remains," Nixie gently reprimanded her, "that water sprites were attacked when they came in peace. My sisters have long memories, as you know all too well." She bowed her head, displaying regret with a flick of her bottommost wings. Long memories, and unbending pride.  
  
"Yes. On  _that_  we can agree." The matriarch drew herself up, straightening her wings. "So. You have come after the disappearances."  
  
Nixie bowed, her wings outstretched in a sign of peace. Opening them this way displayed her one, true weakness, baring it to the world. "I have come to find out why, and if you know the source of the air and earth sprites disappearances as well."  
  
"Of theirs I have no knowledge," the matriarch said disdainfully. "But of the fire sprites, it is because of young Ilyana. She was summoned."  
  
Nixie cocked her head at this in confusion. "Ilyana? Is she not the youngest?" This fact, in turn, should make her also the weakest, as fire sprites grew in power over the years, unlike the water sprites.  
  
To this there was a regal nod. "Yes. She is only two years in age as of this month. She was drawn to a summoning circle, and I have been told that the offer from beyond was quite... generous. Many have followed her past the gate, drawn by her magnetism. She controls them now, and harnesses the power of all."  
  
Nixie scowled at that. "Control? As in...?"  
  
"They are bound to her wishes, much as you yourself were once bound to guard the amulet. The bond is strong, and the one that has summoned Ilyana has a specific goal, one that was not shared with me." A deep frown dug rivets into her face. "I do not know what it is they plan, but I do know that it cannot be good to have placed other sprites under her direct control." The matriarch stared at Nixie steadily. "You cannot interfere, as you well know."  
  
"I must make sure the human world is not threatened by us, sister. Forbidden or not, I must help."  
  
"Nixie, do not be foolish. They will return just like the others. We can speak to them then and discover the reason for the vanishings." The ancient eyes stared out at Nixie from deep shadows. "Do not risk the balance for the human world."  
  
"We need to..." Nixie trailed off from her attempt to convince her sister. "The human world must be prote--" A throbbing whiteness beat through her head. "We need to find... ah!" The whiteness started to take over, pushing away her vision as it consumed her mind.  
  
"Nixie, what is w--" the sound faded away as her world reversed itself. Nixie doubled over in the pain, losing track of the fire sprite.   
  
The volcano disappeared from around her as the whiteness consumed her vision.  


* * *

  
A fire raged.  
  
Nixie gasped as the spiraling world took shape around her. The fire was consuming the world, eating away at all the wood and furnishings she could see. An angry shout came from behind her as a huge mass of air knocked her off balance, causing her to fall a few feet in surprise before she could catch herself. Switching to a fast spiral, Nixie twirled over the head of the enormous human that stood below her, protecting himself and a far smaller human as much as he could with only a jacket for defense. It was painfully obvious he was losing the fight.  
  
"Sam! Dean!" she cried out in surprise. They were the last people she had expected to see, yet in her heart she realized she had hoped to find them again.  
  
The smaller human, his arms up protectively around his face, caught sight of her first. "Nixie! It worked!" Sam cried out in pain when a spark landed on his arm, singeing the jacket sleeve before Dean flicked it away with a finger. "Help us!"  
  
And with those words, Nixie's fate was sealed.  
  
The shattered remains of the summoning orb glowed white on the floor near Dean's immense boots, leaking into Nixie. The power took hold, binding her to the small human's wishes. Even her hair crackled around her at the sudden influx of energy, lifting away from her skin as it rose into the air.  
  
Not even Nixie had understood the full implications of using the summoning orb when giving it to Sam.  
  
_Help us!_  he'd commanded. And that was what she did, without a second thought.   
  
Without a choice.  
  
An easy chant flowed from her lips, catching the essence of any water in the close vicinity. Her arms thrust outwards. To her water sprite eyes, the water glowed, making it easy to spot and find in the world around her. And control. Once under her control, it flowed to her, from the sinks, from the pipes, even drawn up from the ground and down from the sky and out of the air itself. With her command, all water obeyed. She could even see the after-image of Sam and Dean lit up, but was careful to leave the water in their bodies be.  
  
An orb began to take form, closing her and the boys off from the power of the fire sprites. Blue rippled around them, starting near Dean's boots and increasing in strength and size quickly, fed by her constant stream. What words she chanted were known to the sprites as  _Words of Power_  and  _Words of Command._  Each sprite in Aeternum had been born knowing those words, and no element would ever share their secret with the others.   
  
Nixie's eyes darted from sprite to sprite, searching for the one in charge.  
  
Dean drew Sam close to his chest, green eyes wide at the sight of the blue, protective barrier that wrapped around them in an orb and separated them both from the fiery blaze. Glimmering blue droplets hit the brothers with light splashes, helping to soothe the burns they'd acquired in the time they'd been under assault. Nixie did what she could, but none of the water was from a fresh spring, cutting down her ability to heal to almost nothing.

[Battling Sisters](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/art/Battle-of-Fire-and-Ice-554358452) by [Obsess-Confess](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/)  
  
Before she could discover which fire sprite was controlling the rest, one separated from the swift whirlwind of sprites. Red eyes glittering, the sultry young sprite glared at she who was interfering. "Nixie. This is interference. You must stop." She drifted over to the barrier, brushing her fingers against it. "You are bound as we all are to not interfere with other sprites. You must submit to me. My purpose is primary."  
  
"Ilyana!" Nixie said, her voice full of natural command as she beheld her youngest sister. "You must cease this attack. These humans are the ones that stopped our dark brother at their own peril. They have earned our thanks, not our anger." She drew herself up in the air, hanging motionless with her wings spread. With the amount of magic she was channeling she had no need to flap her wings to remain suspended in midair.  
  
She gave Ilyana her most confident stare. "I do not attack, and I do not submit. I stand in your way, sister."  
  
Ilyana drifted closer to Nixie, a few lazy swipes of her wings sending sparks Sam and Dean's way. Making a point, in her own childish fashion. The barrier rippled, but stood firm around the humans. "That matters not. I have come for Sam Winchester, and he  _will_  be mine. This I know."  
  
The constant thrum of the fire sounded around them, building in intensity while everyone's attention was focused on the two sprites. Nixie's own chant held during the standoff, the Words of Power and the Words of Command she had set up keeping a constant flow of water coming from all sources nearby to reinforce her protective barrier even as the fire sprites continued to attack it in the background of their argument.  
  
Ilyana continued to grind in her point with relentless determination. "Nixie, you cannot hold. Submit now, before you are destroyed as well. I do not wish to harm a sister, but I am bound to this task and will not be stopped. Give yourself over,  _now!_ " Her last words were angry and impatient.  
  
“Ah!” Nixie cried out. Each of Ilyana’s words sliced through her to her very core. Even though she did not act against her sister directly, she was interfering, and her very nature sought to punish her.  
  
It was true - she was forbidden interference with any other sprite as they were forbidden interference with her. Her standing against Ilyana violated pacts that had stood firm since the beginning. Bonds that once broken could kill them all. Even the water sprites that had been attacked in the past had only been attacked to keep them away from the home of the other fire sprites. Only because they were 'protecting' their home had they been able to attack.  
  
But right now, she was all that stood between her friends and a fiery death.   
  
Dean and Sam didn’t deserve this fate - they were the only help Nixie had been given against her dark brother and the cursed amulet. Without the help of the brothers the human world would have been conquered, turned away from its true destiny. Her sisters hadn’t been able to help her that time - returning home she had discovered that her spell had sealed the portal behind her and Lityerses, cutting them off. Once she had come home the portal had returned to normal, throbbing with its steady, reassuring glow, allowing passage if desired.  
  
Now all that stopped her from releasing her spells was the hold the summoning orb, even shattered and broken, had on her. In its summoning, it had bound her to Sam’s wishes, though he did not know it and she had not expected it. Without that hold she would have no choice but to stop and let the boys die.  
  
But with that one plea… “ _Help us!_  ” ...he had given her the resistance she needed to endure. The resistance that prevented her from killing Dean and taking Sam, as Ilyana's subliminal commands told her to do, taking root in her very core and coiling inside every crack and crevice they could find in her.  
  
Ilyana continued relentlessly on, repeating her commands and reinforcing her controlling power. “Release your magic, sister. Give yourself over to us,  _now._ ” Her power was increasing as the intensity of the firestorm grew and was beginning to take hold of Nixie's very thoughts. The seed had been planted and it could only grow.  
  
A throaty scream escaped Nixie, her arms stretched to their limits. The torment of warring powers sliced through her.  
  
**Help Sam.  
**   
Take Sam.  
  
Both equally powerful. Her protective barrier shrank under the sudden mental assault, the top of the rippling water sphere brushing against Dean’s spiky hair. The other sprites redoubled their efforts as they sensed her weakness. They shrieked out their incantations as they flew ever tighter circles around the three. The intensity of the firestorm outside the barrier increased, the pop and sizzle of burning wood audible over the flames. Only Ilyana remained motionless, her commands keeping the other fire sprites in line, and her mental assault preventing Nixie from strengthening the water barrier.  
  
“Sam! I cannot hold!”  
  
As a last ditch effort to stop from losing her hold on the magic, she gave herself over to the bond with Sam. Her eyes glowed with sudden power as the bond took over. Pure whiteness burned from them as her bond with water was sublimated into the bond with Sam, washing away every trace of blue compassion that had lurked in her face.  
  
She was only vaguely aware of losing control of her flight. She crashed on the palm of Dean’s hand, next to Sam. She never felt his arms wrap around her shoulders, drawing her close in an embrace even as Dean closed his fist around them.  
  
With the war inside her as vicious as the firestorm outside, she closed her eyes. Even as her spell continued on she lost her grip on the world, plunging into darkness.  
  
Flesh was weak. The bond was all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sprites have shown their faces, and are out in full force. Fire, water and air (seen for the first time!).
> 
> Next chapter coming September 18th


	7. Burn it to the Ground

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to shake Nixie. She didn't respond, going limp in his arms. The only reaction he manage to get from her was when her bright white eyes reopened, staring blankly at the world around them. "We've gotta get out of here! I don't think her barrier will last much longer!"  
  
Dean cursed. The lead sprite sent a ball of fire at them again, splashing harmlessly against the barrier. But Sam was right - the barrier shrank under the assault, almost brushing Dean's head now. He scanned the world past the barrier, spotting a door that was almost burnt to a crisp. "Hang on!"  
  
Considering how tight his fist was closed around the tiny people in his grasp, those words didn't matter as much as he thought. Sam held Nixie close in his arms, shivering in Dean's grip as he closed his own eyes. He understood all too well the ride was about to get bumpy, and he worked to keep his rising panic down.  
  
Dean rammed into the door, smashing what was left of it to bits. His hand instinctively tightened around Sam at the violent motion, trying to cushion his fragile passengers from the shock. Running, Dean tossed himself through the remains of the second door, bursting outside into the fresh air. The house groaned behind them as the fire sprites went into a frenzy, raging at the loss of their targets.  
  
Turning around, Dean shielded his eyes as he saw parts of the house collapse behind them, fueled by the raging anger in the fire. "Holy..." he trailed off at the sight, awed by the sheer power shown in the display.  
  
Out of the door spilled a flight of sprites, one last blast demolishing the only house left standing on the block. Dean dove into a sprint, heading for the car as fast as he could. "Sam, get her to drop the barrier!" Dean snapped as he ran. With the watery magic sealing them off from the world, he'd never be able to get into the car.  
  
"How, Dean?" Sam demanded, still trying to get a rise out of her. The fingers relaxed around them, giving him a bit more room to work with despite the persistent pounding that surrounded them from Dean's powerful strides as he ran. A constant earthquake shook the world around them. "Nixie, you've gotta be okay. Please, we need your help!"  
  
She didn't respond, staring blankly into space. Sam shivered a little at the solid white eyes, all trace of blue gone. There was no compassion or understanding left in her as she lay there, and her spell continued on relentlessly.  
  
"C'mon Nixie, please! Drop the barrier!"  
  
At this, the blue sparkles faded from around Dean, the water crashing to the ground around them and splashing Dean's pants and the side of the Impala. Wasting no time, Dean dove in the car and started it up.  
  
The Impala screeched backwards as the fire sprites swarmed around her. Dean growled as one sent a fireball their way, barely swerving out of the way in time. Switching to drive, Dean floored it, slamming his boot harshly down on the pedal. Sam clutched Nixie close, holding the insensate sprite as safe as he could as the car accelerated. Events were far beyond his control now.  
  
With an furious screech, Ilyana sent one last fireball at the car, ramming the passenger’s side next to the engine before they could get away. Dean's curses filled the air as he drove desperately away, black smoke pouring out from under the car.  
  


* * *

  
Impatient, Bobby poked at the hotdogs cooking in the saucepan, silently willing them to cook faster. He was attempting to catch a quick bite to eat while the phones were quiet.  
  
The hunter network he ran was not as large as it had once been, especially with hunters like a certain John Winchester that insisted on flying solo, but it was enough to keep him busy most hours of the day. He'd get calls asking for forgotten lore, calls from people calling to verify that so-and-so had actually been sent to X town, and was the FBI really checking into this type of case now? He kept a calm tone as he constantly talked his way out of the bureaucratic tangles that the hunters had managed to dig themselves into.  
  
So far, this had been one of his busiest days in over a month, with the phones ringing off the hook. He hadn't been able to catch a break since six that morning.  
  
Today was turning into one of those days.  
  
The sun was setting on the horizon as he finished cooking his belated lunch, dropping the hot dogs onto a plate with a few slices of bread and some of the last dredges from his ketchup bottle. Rumsfeld was stretched out on one of the cars outside, keeping a sharp eye on his domain as he rested in the waning sunlight. Bobby had been working on that same car not long ago before surrendering it to the dog as he retired to watch the phones.  
  
Golden rays stretched over the junkyard, lighting up the world one last time when a familiar rumble could be heard making its way up the driveway. Bobby brushed his hands off, trying to clean up a little for his unexpected company. Hopefully it wasn't any nosy law enforcement prowling around and sticking their noses where they didn't belong. That was the last thing he needed today.  
  
He was on his way to the front door when he realized he knew the purr of that engine. " _Balls!_  " Bobby hissed. He darted for the door, praying he'd be in time.  
  
Sure enough, the familiar creak of the Impala's door opening came, right as Bobby reached the entryway. He fumbled with the doorknob at the same time as Rumsfeld caught a whiff of their visitors -  _both_  of them.  
  
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Rumsfeld came barreling-ass around the side of the house. Bobby managed to yank open the door, almost ripping it off the hinges in his rush.  
  
Dean was backed against the hood of the Impala, almost climbing up his car to get away from the massive Rottweiler. His curses reached Bobby's ears unhindered. One hand was clutched against his chest with a blue shimmer shining through the fingers, and the other hand was braced on his shoulder, wrapped around another small figure. Bobby could even make out Sam's small hands as he tried to push Dean's hand out of the way to see what was going on.  
  
"Rumsfeld! Down!" Bobby shouted as he almost leapt down the stairs. It was sheer dumb luck Dean had his hands full or he might have pulled a gun on the apparent threat to Sam there and then.  
  
Finally catching up to Rumsfeld, Bobby grabbed his collar, yanking him back from the hunter to give Dean and Sam some space. The dog continued growling, his eyes flashing between Dean and the hand covering Sam.  
  
"Calm down, Rumsfeld!" Bobby concentrated on talking to the dog, hoping to get him to relax.  
  
"What the  _hell_ , Bobby?!" Dean was incensed. "What's he want with Sam?"  
  
Rumsfeld started to drag Bobby forward in his eagerness to get to Sam.   
  
"It's not Sam he's growlin' at, Dean. It's  _you_. He thinks you're trappin' Sam and is tryin'ta help." Bobby gave a sharp tug on the collar.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded in his confusion. " _Help_  Sam? Why's he trying to help Sam?" His attention switched to the dog. "Rumsfeld, you  _know_  me! It's just  _Dean!_ "  
  
Bobby was already shaking his head  _no_. "Don't matter. Rumsfeld's had experience with people like Sam before. He knows they don't like humans and he's just tryin' to get Sam free. He'd react the same way if  _I_  was the one holding Sam, 'man's best friend' or not."  
  
Dean's mouth fell open at the revelation, shocked into silence. In the sudden quiet, Bobby realized he could hear Sam trying to get Dean to open his hand.   
  
"Well?" Bobby demanded, his grip on Rumsfeld tight. "Whatcha waitin' for? I doubt Sam enjoys bein' held like that." He didn't doubt the trust between the boys, but no one could want an immovable hand walled between them and the world, and lord knows Dean could be a  _stubborn_  son of a bitch to live with.  
  
Dean came back to himself. "Uh... right. Sorry, Sammy." His hand unfurled from his brother, revealing the small hunter standing there.  
  
Even though he already knew what to expect, Bobby couldn't help staring in surprise at Sam. He was so  _small_  - yet also perfectly comfortable standing on Dean's shoulder, trusting his safety to the older hunter without a qualm. They were as different as night and day - Dean came off as dark and intense, a runaway freight train on hunts, while Sam came off as soft spoken and curious, not to mention hard to notice - each trait complementing the other, making them a surprisingly effective team.  
  
Rumsfeld whined when Sam was revealed, continuing to try and reach Dean. "C'mon, boy. Dean's not hurtin' him, see?" Bobby rubbed his head reassuringly.  
  
Sam said something that was lost under the dog's whines. "Absolutely  _not!_  " Dean barked in response, fear slipping past his gruff demeanor.  
  
"What?" Bobby asked. "What did Sam say?"  
  
Dean glared at Bobby in annoyance. " _Nothing_ , Sam said nothing."  
  
"I wasn't born yesterday, boy," Bobby said warningly. "Now, tell me what your brother said, or I'll watch Rumsfeld chase your sorry ass outta here. Me an' Sam'll make popcorn."  
  
Dean stood firm under his glare for a few seconds more, enough time for Sam to say something else to him, laying a miniscule hand against Dean's neck. Bobby's eyebrows climbed all the way to his trucker cap as Dean visibly softened, a sight Bobby had never thought possible from the jaded hunter. "He said... if Rumsfeld's  _really_  safe... he'd like to try petting him." Dean gave Bobby a crooked grin. "Sam always wanted a dog growing up." His eyes hardened again to the Dean that Bobby had grown used to. "But only if you're  _absolutely sure_  Sam's safe with Rumsfeld."  
  
Bobby gave both brothers a solemn nod. He'd never risk Sam on a 'maybe.' "I'd stake my life on it."  
  
Dean scoffed at that as he offered his free hand up to Sam. "Just remember, Sam's life  _is_  being staked on it."  
  
Once Sam was standing in Dean's hand, the hunter knelt down, holding Sam out in front of him. Bobby's breath caught at the sight. Cornered between the hunter and the dog, Sam was almost lost if you glanced quickly at the scene. He was absolutely miniscule, but from what Bobby could see, far more calm and collected than Dean himself at the moment.  
  
Bobby inched closer, with Rumsfeld continuing to strain at his collar. Sam stretched out a small hand for the dog to sniff the way he'd been taught as a child, bravely standing his ground.  
  
Rumsfeld managed to get enough slack to bump his nose against Sam's chest, happily snuffling the small hunter. Dean's hand tensed under Sam, but otherwise remained motionless as they both waited to see what happened.  
  
Sam let out a relieved laugh at Rumsfeld's nuzzle, leaning over to rub the dog's snout with both hands. "Look, Dean! I think he likes me!" Sam stated proudly. With Bobby standing closer, his voice could finally be heard, though it was soft compared to the other noises around.  
  
"Guess he does," Dean said, his voice coated in surprise. Though Rumsfeld was clearly continuing to give Dean a wary stare, there was nothing but affection in him when he nuzzled Sam.  
  
Sam twisted around, glancing straight up to meet Dean in the eyes. "Mind putting me down?" he asked, his hazel eyes locked on Dean's.  
  
A slight scowl passed over Dean's face at the question, but he willingly lowered his hand for the smaller hunter. The moment Sam slipped to the ground, Rumsfeld lay flat on the ground and stretched out on his stomach to be on the same level as Sam. He happily snuffled the small Winchester again, rubbing his head against Sam to show his affection. It was nothing short of an amazing sight as the Rottweiler deferred to the small man. The entire time, Rumsfeld kept a wary eye cocked at the two humans, determined to protect his new friend.  
  
Dean stood up once he was absolutely certain Sam was alright down there, giving his brother some space. He glanced at Bobby. "How did you know?" he asked as he gestured at Sam.  
  
Bobby shrugged. "Like I said. I've seen Rumsfeld interacting with little guys like Sam before, in the field behind the junkyard. He chased me off before I could get too close, and as far as I can tell, he considers them part of his family. Don' matter if it's you or me, he won't let us close to them."  
  
Dean considered that quietly, staring down at his small brother by his boots. Sam had a broad smile on his face while he rubbed Rumsfeld's soft snout, ignoring the two humans nearby. He didn't even react to the boots that shifted nearby. "So there are some that live out in the wilderness?" Dean asked curiously.  
  
"They're the only ones I've seen livin' that way," Bobby said. "Otherwise, they make their homes in human buildings. It's safer by far, considering how many animals out there might make a snack out of them. Hawks, snakes, raccoons, badgers... the list goes on. I've seen Rumsfeld chasing down animals before, keeping them away from the place I gather they live." He took in Dean's state curiously, then the car. Scorch marks covered the passenger side of the Impala, small puffs of smoke slipping out from under the hood from time to time. From the look of things, including the burns on Dean's arms and leg, they'd barely made it out in one piece. "So, what brings you boys here?"  
  
Dean frowned, and held out his other hand. A small, blue girl sat there, with delicate dragonfly wings stretched out from her body. Her small, white eyes stared blankly into nothing, showing no reaction to the giant human holding her. "We got attacked in a house, and Sam summoned Nixie here to help us. But I'm not sure what happened to her, she hasn't responded since we left the house."  
  
Bobby gestured Dean into the house. "You'll have to give me all the details. I made hot dogs."  
  
Dean smirked at that. Going to pick Sam up, he reached a hand out to his brother. Before it had a chance to get close, Rumsfeld growled and hovered protectively over the small hunter. Dean flinched back in surprise, glancing up at Rumsfeld. "It's just me, boy. It's Dean," he tried cajoling the dog, hopefully trying to get his hand closer.  
  
No go. The dog simply lowered his head closer over Sam, continuing his growl.  
  
Sam broke the stalemate, walking out from under Rumsfeld's jaw. "It's okay, boy. That's my big brother Dean." Sam gave Dean a warm smile, his small face upturned. "He's harmless."  
  
With Sam's encouragement, the dog backed off and begrudgingly allowed Dean to scoop his brother off the ground. "I wouldn't go _that_  far," Dean grumbled, "We both know how dangerous I can be by accident."  
  
Sam kicked at one of his fingers. "And we both know you're more careful than anyone else. So deal with it, you  _mostly_  harmless hunter."  
  
Bobby led the way into the house, wisely staying out of the argument. Rumsfeld trailed after Dean and his new buddy, nose in the air.  
  


* * *

  
A few minutes later, Sam was settled on a plate on the kitchen table, eating his way through a chunk of the hotdog Bobby had cut up for him moments ago. He didn't flinch in surprise as a fork dropped down from the sky, spearing a different piece of hotdog the size of Sam's torso. Nor did he flinch when Dean ate it above him in one easy bite, finishing off the rest of the last hotdog.  
  
Bobby stood away from the table, leaning against the counter while he morosely watched the remains of his dinner get devoured by the Winchester boys. Dean had already finished off the other three hotdogs before asking Sam "You gonna eat that?" and shamelessly jabbing his fork at the untouched pieces of Sam's hotdog. Considering the hotdog alone was longer than Sam was tall, no one had been surprised when Sam had shrugged it off, letting Dean start in on his portion.  
  
Bobby  _had_  been surprised, however, when Sam elected to sit on Dean's plate for lack of a better place to eat. It wasn't so much the spot itself, with Sam comfortably stretched out with his boots pointed towards the center of the plate.  
  
It was the fact that he was  _sitting on a plate_ , barely four inches tall, completely relaxed while a comparative giant ate all the food surrounding him, some easily as big as he was. And that was aside from the fact that one slip-up by Dean with that fork could easily break another of Sam's bones.  
  
No one he had ever met had trust like them Winchesters.’  
  
Not to mention, Dean had never been the neatest eater. Yet there Sam was, contentedly picking apart his own head-sized hunk of hotdog and calmly dipping it in the puddle of ketchup right next to him (one of the few things on the plate Dean hadn't touched, for Sam's sake), while Dean went to town on everything else.  
  
Bobby's stomach growled at him as the last of his food vanished, dissatisfied with the outcome. He put a hand on it to quell the rumbles, not regretting the use the food had gone to in the end. Both boys had arrived looking like hell warmed over. Burns on Dean's legs showed through the singed and blackened denim, and even Sam has a small burn mark on his jacket sleeve, though he'd assured both Dean and Bobby it hadn't actually been able to hurt him. Bobby wasn't sure if he believed Sam, and he knew for _sure_  that Dean didn't. Both of them had let it slide for the moment, in lieu of getting some hot food in them.  
  
Bobby sighed. Well, hot food in Dean and Sam, at least.  _There's chicken noodle soup in the pantry_ , he tried to reassure himself. _Might be a year or two old, but a little age never hurt anyone..._  
  
The final member of their motley crew, Nixie the water sprite, had been placed on a plate of her own. Her blank white eyes continued to stare out at the world around her, focusing on nothing yet seeing everything. She didn't even twitch a muscle at the movement around her. A spray of dandelion leaves had been left by her side, still coated in water droplets from their attempt to clean off any toxins from the car fumes in Bobby's junkyard. With food short in Bobby's house, it had been the best he had to offer to the resident vegetarian.  
  
Not even that had served to draw her from her stupor. Bobby was certain the only reason she hadn't toppled over in her seat had been the way Sam had placed her, making sure her weight wasn't leaning to one side or the other. Her wings propped up behind her, the lower sections slanted against the table and the higher sections stretched to their fullest.  
  
Once Dean had finished off the last scraps of hotdog on his plate aside from what Sam had in his hands, he leaned back with a content sigh, folding his hands over his stomach. Rumsfeld grumbled at the movement, laying next to Dean's feet in an attempt to keep as close to Sam as possible. He was clearly against Sam remaining on the table, so close to the two humans, but had taken Sam's reassurances to heart for the moment.  
  
Bobby crossed his arms, focusing on Dean now that the boy had finished his meal. "So, mind clueing me in on why you boys gatecrashed my house without callin' ahead?"  
  
Dean quirked an eyebrow at Bobby with a slight eye roll in response. "Oh, I didn't realize we needed to call ahead and make reservations for Casa Del Bobby. My bad. We'll make sure to do that next time, don't you worry."  
  
"Right, well, next time, you better remember other hunters visit here from time to time. The last thing any of us need is the  _wrong_ type'a hunter findin' out about Sam. The more people that see him, the more danger he's in."  
  
Dean was silent after his scolding, ears burning bright red at the thought of Sam in danger because of his own negligence, but Sam's face was upturned in Bobby's direction, an eternal curiosity sparkling in those small hazel eyes. "What do the other hunters do here, Bobby?" he asked politely, paying no mind to the brooding hunter that loomed over him.  
  
Bobby chose to follow Sam's example and ignore Dean. He'd never seen anyone handle Dean's moods as skillfully as Sam, no matter his size. "They come for help or lore, mostly. I've got the biggest library on most supernatural things this side of the country, after all. Others call my phones if their story needs backin' up. Stuff like that." He nodded towards the line of phones against the wall, each marked with the persona he took on when he answered them. Compared to the normal hunters he dealt with, Dean included, Sam's innocent curiosity was a breath of fresh air, untempered by his family's cynicism.  
  
In fact, instead of Sam becoming cynical and reserved like Dean, Bobby had noticed the opposite was happening.  
  
Dean was  _happier_.  
  
It wasn't obvious or easy to notice, but it was there all the same. Worry lines in Dean's face had vanished, taking years off his age. That familiar darkness no longer hovered over him, keeping him from enjoying what life he had. It was as though Sam had become a small ray of light, pushing out the darkness that had taken root in Dean all those years ago, planted when that witch had taken away his brother.  
  
Dean had been given the most precious gift one could find in that four-inch-tall brother of his: A reason to live.  
  
Ever since losing Sam, Dean had become focused on nothing but improving himself. John's obsession to find the thing that killed his wife had cut him off from a normal life and Dean had needlessly suffered in turn, dragged down the same path without a choice. Without ever  _knowing_  he had a choice.   
  
The moment Dean let himself believe Sam lost had been the moment he'd let the same obsession infect him.  
  
Bobby himself had let anger cloud his judgement that one fatal day when he'd decided to chase John off his property with a shotgun. He'd been disgusted by John's shameful disregard for Dean's undying loyalty, willing to do anything to help his family, which had been reduced to one John Winchester who, in Bobby's opinion, didn't deserve that loyalty.   
  
Unfortunately, in chasing away the father, Bobby had inadvertently chased away the son.  
  
The only other times since that day he'd heard from Dean had been an increasingly angry series of phone calls, demanding to know where John was, why he'd disappeared, why he'd left Dean behind... Bobby had wanted nothing more than to help the distraught boy, but John had cut all ties when he vanished, leaving no trail to follow. Those angry phone calls had eventually tapered off, then stopped completely, leaving an ominous silence behind.  
  
Bobby had been thrilled to discover that the silence hadn't been because of Dean's death, an outcome he'd feared ever since the boy took up hunting, but was instead because Dean had cut himself off from the world after discovering his brother was alive. He hadn't wanted to risk Sam around any other humans,  _especially_  any hunters after hearing what Sam had told him hunters had done in the past to people like him. Dean would risk no harm to his small brother, even if it meant he himself had to change the way he lived. The fact that Bobby had been lumped into Dean's list of 'People To Stay Away From for Sam' had broken his heart at first, but he'd come to understand Dean's reasoning.  
  
Bobby gave Sam a smile. "So, what can you tell me about this problem you boys got goin' on?"  
  
Sam glanced up at Dean, but the older hunter remained expressionless. Deciding to go on, Sam took in a deep breath and started to explain.  
  
Bobby found himself amazed at the story Sam told. The natural disasters he'd heard about, but the news reports in his town had left out the portion where each had occurred at the same time as the last. He'd have paid far more attention to the stories if he'd known about that. Sam told him about finding the house and splitting up with Dean. Bobby's brow furrowed at that thought, wondering how Dean had ever been convinced of  _that_. Sam wasn't exactly equipped to be able to handle himself if any humans ever found him.  _Again_.  
  
"Then..." Sam's voice continued. "I climbed the kitchen counter. I had this feeling on the back of my neck that I was being watched from somewhere, but we would have known if there were any humans around, and I can tell if any humans are walking near me." He wrinkled his nose. "It's hard to miss when the ground shakes around you every time a person takes a step."  
  
Both Bobby and Dean were, by now, hanging onto his every word. It was rare Sam talked about how things really were for him and neither hunter wanted to miss a single word.  
  
Sam went on. "When I got to the top, I honestly thought there was a doll sitting in the center. Then she moved, and stood up." He stretched out his arms. "She had wings, like red bat wings, or dragon wings, and dark red hair. Her eyes... they reminded me of Nixie's a little." Gesturing towards the sprite, he explained. "If you look really close, Nixie doesn't have pupils. They're all a solid blue iris. This girl's were the same. Solid red, no iris. She told me I was meant to come with her and I almost did."  
  
Dean jerked at this. "You  _what?_  " he demanded.  
  
Sam shrugged, ignoring the suddenly angry tone. "It was like she hypnotized me or something. The only thing I could see was her eyes. It was like nothing else mattered, like she was the only thing in the world. I couldn't stop. Then... there was a gunshot upstairs, and it broke the trance. I snapped out of it like it had never happened. She got angry when I refused to go with her... like the worst anger I've ever seen. She set the air around her on fire, and it was all I could do to get away." He turned to Dean, swinging a leg off the edge of the plate. "Then you came in."  
  
Dean scowled. "I almost didn't make it in time," he admitted. "I saw you jump off the counter and it was all I could do to cross the room and catch you. You had the one girl waiting for you, I found the rest of the swarm upstairs." This came out with a grimace. "Damn near burned my eyebrows off."  
  
"Yeah, well, they might not have burned your eyebrows off, but they sure did a number on you boys regardless." Bobby stared them both down. Neither of the brothers could meet him in the eyes for more than a moment, which told him all he needed to know about Sam and Dean's injuries. "How 'bout I take a look at the books I got dealin' with sprites," he nodded at Nixie, "while you two get yer asses patched up."  
  
Dean went to argue with Bobby, but paused when his eyes strayed to the burn mark on Sam's arm. His scowl deepened. "After we're done, we'll be working on the case," he grumbled at Bobby. "None of this 'taking it easy' crap."  
  
Bobby smiled grimly. Some things would never change with Dean, but at least he'd put Sam's hurts in front of the case even if he refused to do the same with his own. "Wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
"Can I give the rest of my hotdog to Rumsfeld?" Sam asked, standing up from the plate and brushing any remaining crumbs from his shirt.  
  
" 'Course you can," Bobby assured him. "Just remember he can't have  _too_  many treats."  
  
Sam stood at the edge with the rest of his piece in hand. "Rumsfeld!" he called out, peering over the side. Rumsfeld scrambled out from under Dean, sniffing at Sam the moment he saw the smaller brother. Both Bobby and Dean tensed at the dog, worried he'd have trouble telling the difference between friend and snack.  
  
They needn't have worried. Sam laughed, then held a hand against Rumsfeld's nose, pushing him away. "No, you can't have it like that. Sit!"  
  
Rumsfeld let himself be pushed, sitting on the floor and staring loyally at Sam. Sam chucked the hotdog as far in the air as he could, and Rumsfeld snapped it right up, immediately glancing around for more. He definitely had a new best friend in the dog.  
  
This time around, Rumsfeld didn't grumble at Dean as the older hunter stood. "So, where do you keep your first aid kit?" he asked.  
  
Bobby pointed at the stairs. "Right in the bathroom, under the sink. There's a smaller kit kept in each bedroom as well. I'll be in the library once you're finished."  
  
He was about to say something to Dean about how he'd left Sam on the table, but he realized belatedly that the smaller hunter had already made it halfway up Dean's arm, climbing up from the hand that had been casually resting nearby. Bobby tried not to stare all over again, but couldn't help it. He'd never seen anything like the pair of brothers in all his years.  
  
Once Sam reached his shoulder, Dean went up the stairs to patch them both up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Rumsfeld has entered the screen!
> 
> Next chapter arrives September 25th!


	8. Spritely Research

"C'mon, Sam. I _know_  your arm's hurt. You've been favoring it ever since we left the house."  
  
Sam glared up at Dean through his messy bangs, his stance stubborn. For a few seconds, Dean thought he'd continue arguing, but to his surprise, Sam sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping down. " _Fine_ ," he said, an edge in his voice. "Just... be careful, alright?"  
  
Dean realized belatedly that the edge in Sam's voice wasn't from anger or annoyance, but sheer nerves. He was worried about his arm needing to be patched up yet again, and there was no one around his own size to help out this time. If Dean made one mistake, he could snap that arm like a toothpick. "I always am," he said gently, his eyes solidly locked on Sam's and begging for his trust.  
  
To that end, Dean was already armed with a Q-tip coated in burn cream, a strip of gauze cut down in size to be able to fit Sam's arm, and a wet washcloth, soaked in cold water in case the wound needed to be cleaned. He'd gathered it all during his argument with Sam, a stubborn streak rising from the small hunter that put Dean's own to shame.  
  
Dean's injuries had already been cleaned and wrapped. There were multiple burns on his right leg, one large burn on his left, and a burn stretching along his right arm, along with his bracelet now burnt to a crisp. None were bad and all would heal in a week or two.  
  
Dean squatted on the floor as Sam began to peel the singed jacket off, opting for a position where he wasn't overshadowing his brother. Once his arm was free, Sam dropped the jacket onto the countertop he was standing on in the bathroom, a grimace passing over his face at the movement. Dean himself winced at the sight of the spectacular burn covering a goodly portion of Sam's left arm.  
  
"That arm just can't catch a break," Dean stated softly as he leaned in, holding up an outstretched finger for Sam to place his arm on. He would never just grab Sam's arm to treat it. Sam deserved better than that.  
  
"No, guess not," Sam replied. He flinched when it came into contact with Dean's skin, trying (and failing) to hide the pain in his eyes. Glancing back up, he continued, "I'm starting to think this arm is more cursed than the rest of me," Sam said in a joking manner, gamely trying to keep his mind off the pain as Dean cleaned the wound with light, restrained movements. "Sprained wrist, broken bone, now a second degree burn. It never ends." Sam let out a hiss as Dean finished the cleaning.  
  
"Almost done," Dean assured him.  
  
Taking the small Q-tip, Dean gently applied the topical medicine to the damaged skin, making sure to coat it in its entirety. A small strip of gauze was taken in hand after and the wound was wrapped with precise and restrained movements, something that most people wouldn't expect from a hunter like Dean. Soon enough Sam was flexing the arm, curiously checking his new range of motion.  
  
"Good?" Dean asked, watching Sam's face for any dying flickers of pain.  
  
Sam nodded sharply. "Good," he declared. He scooped up his burnt jacket from the counter, slinging it over his shoulder.  
  
Dean stretched out a hand. "Let's go check if Bobby found us anything helpful."

* * *

  
When they arrived in the cluttered library downstairs, Bobby was hunched over a massive, thick tome, all sorts of other books scattered over the table. He spared the brothers a quick glance before turning back to his reading. "You boys really put your foot in it this time," he grumbled.  
  
Dean hastened over to the table, making sure to drop his hand on it so Sam could climb down on his own. "What'd you find?" Dean asked even as Sam reached the table, climbing over several books and scattered papers to check on Nixie.  
  
"You better tell me everythin' that happened at that house, first."  
  
Dean recounted the rest of their encounter with the fire sprites as Sam made his way over to the water sprite. Nixie had been placed at the center, away from the tornado of books Bobby had been going through. Unblinking, she gave no response as Sam held a hand to her head, hoping to find out what was wrong with her. But aside from her lack of response, nothing jumped out at him. She continued breathing regularly, her skin was cool to the touch, and none of her wings were damaged, which she'd once told him was one of the most damaging things you could do to a water sprite. The wings served as her magical connection. With them broken, she would lose her power.

[Lost Nixie](http://mogadeer.deviantart.com/art/Com-Nixie-for-Nightmares06-556274176) by [Mogadeer](http://mogadeer.deviantart.com/)

Once he was sure she was doing as well as could be expected, he turned back to the other hunters, as curious as Dean to see if Bobby had found anything new.  
  
A slight shiver of intimidation went up Sam's spine at the sight of Bobby hovering over his book and Dean looming behind him. From his angle on the table, both became dark, shadowy figures that gave him a sense that he was once again small and insignificant. He had to actively work to push that feeling away even as Bobby began to speak, clearly considering what Dean had just told him.  
  
"You boys had experience with Nixie and water sprites in the past, am I right?" Bobby waited for a confirming nod from them both before going on. "Well, we got Nixie here. We all know she's a water sprite and from another realm. But I'm bettin' she didn't tell you much about the other elemental sprites, did she?"  
  
Both brothers shook their heads. Sam started to pick his way through the towering books and scraps of paper, intermixed with various pens and charms scattered about haphazardly. He finally reached the hand Dean was leaning on the table with, supporting his weight. From there, Sam could just barely make out the text in the book if he stood on tip-toe. He considered climbing back up to Dean's shoulder so he'd have a better view, but decided to stay put, at least for the moment. His arm was still sore, so he figured he'd let it rest.  
  
The book itself was a thick, leather-bound tome with coarse, weathered pages and a few tattered ribbons to mark pages with. Bobby moved one out of his way as he ran a finger down the page.  
  
"These sprites were real heavyweight hitters back in the days togas were big," Bobby informed them. "The gods created them as keepers of balance, and sealed them in Aeternum until they were needed." He gestured briefly at Nixie's silent profile. "Now, you've been told how Nixie guarded that there Amulet of the Golden Touch. What you haven't been told is that was never the full extent of their duties."  
  
Bobby paused, spotting Sam's difficulty seeing the text. Moving a hand out of the way, Bobby nodded encouragingly at Sam.  
  
Emboldened by the way he was surrounded by friends, two humans that had proven themselves to him in different ways, and a dog that would face down Dean on his behalf, Sam climbed up onto the book so he could see what the other two were looking at.  
  
Elegant script that had been inked delicately by hand curled gracefully under his boots. A picture was displayed over a good portion of the page, with four women standing at the four points of the compass.  
  
The blue glow of a water sprite was standing tall at north. Her hair was a lighter hue than Nixie's, her figure far more ethereal, but the wings, the eyes, those parts were all the same. The figure down south almost seemed incorporeal, her silken gown shrouding her legs from view. She had one hand outstretched in a claw, fire burning within her grip. The wings were eerily familiar, glistening as they stretched over her head. The dragon claws at the end of each wing were curled as well, sharp and dangerous. The tail however, was not familiar. It curled out from under her gown, red scales almost glowing.  
  
Clearly, Ilyana and the others that had attacked them were fire sprites. Sam found himself wondering at the lack of a tail on Ilyana compared to this representation. He only spared the last two sprites a brief glance, east showing a pale girl with white feathered wings staring out with golden eyes and west with a dark figure hunched over with shovel-like claws on her hands and an armadillo shell. Her eyes might have been black or grey, but a pale film over them blocked out the color, showing she was blind. The air and earth sprites.  
  
Underneath the picture of the sprites was an elegant passage, inscribed in gold script;  
  
_Lo, when times go dark and the world despairs,_  
_The elements themselves shall rise up,_  
_For one is all and all become one,_  
_The fire of passion,_  
_The waters of serenity,_  
_As steadfast as the earth,_  
_And as changing as the air._  
  
Sam's mouth moved slightly as he read the words.  _The fires of passion_... Ilyana was certainly passionate, but also quick to anger when things didn't go her way, a dangerous combination.  
  
Bobby spoke up again overhead. "These sprites were created to keep balance in the world. Now, you got Nixie and her 'sisters' takin' care of Midas' curse, but they could be summoned for other purposes. For instance, say the ‘waters of the world’ were poisoned so no one could drink them. You could summon the water sprites to purify them, keepin' everyone alive. Nixie here... small scale you could turn her into your own personal water purification system. But let’s think big. That little girl, all on her own, packs enough of a wallop to be able to cleanse the Dead Sea and make it viable."  
  
Dean couldn't hold in a whistle of awe at that thought and Sam did a double-take.   
  
Bobby went on. "In ancient times, fire sprites themselves like this 'Ilyana' you ran into were used to raze the land of poison, making way for new growth. A fresh start. But my personal favorites have to be over here." His fingers tapped against the opposite page from where Sam was standing, where it looked like a tidal wave and an earthquake were consuming a city. "Other uses of the sprites weren't as benign, but deemed necessary by the gods. You boys ever read up about the legend of Atlantis? Accordin' to this book, the city's technology far exceeded what you could find in neighboring civilizations, creating an imbalance of power. In order to keep the earth a level playing field for everyone, the earth sprites were summoned and the city was sunk to the bottom of the ocean."  
  
Bobby paused there, letting them soak that information in. The sprites were more powerful than they had ever allowed themselves to believe. After their last encounter with Nixie, where her wings had been damaged almost the entire time and she was unable to use her magic, a sprite had seemed merely small and helpful. But from what Bobby was saying, those fire sprites that they'd run into might be able to level a city on their own if they didn't get what they wanted - Sam. He stayed quiet, thinking about his options while Bobby resumed their lesson on sprite history.  
  
"Now, there's a few ways to summon the sprites detailed here in this book. There's a summoning ritual where pacts can be made, a binding orb, or the sprites have to be summoned by the gods.  
  
"The binding orb's the most powerful of the lot, and the rarest. In order to pull this off, you need an orb given to you by the sprites themselves. Smash that orb, and the sprite that created it is compelled to come to your side and bound to your wishes. Nothing can break that bond unless either you die or you release the sprite willingly."  
  
Bobby and Dean both stared at Sam. "Wait... you mean she's bound to  _me?_  " Sam asked, his voice incredulous as he caught up to the others line of thought.  
  
Bobby nodded his head at Nixie. "It's easy enough to test. Just give her a command. If she's bound to you, she'll obey. She  _has_  to obey."  
  
Sam turned, staring at the sprite sitting over a foot away. It took him a moment to get the words out, not wanting it to be true.  
  
"Nixie... can you stand for me?"  
  
There was no response, not even a twitch of her wings. Confused, Sam glanced back at Bobby.  
  
Bobby was already shaking his head. "That's not a command. You can't ask her to do anything in the bond, you need to  _tell_ her to do it."  
  
Squaring his jaw, Sam looked back over at the sprite. He remembered earlier that day, when she'd first slipped into the trance and wouldn't let go of the magic shield she had around him and Dean. She hadn't responded until his shout  _Nixie! Drop the barrier!_  
  
"Nixie, stand."  
  
In one fluid motion Nixie rose and turned to face Sam. Her wings vibrated once as they folded down behind her back. White, unblinking eyes were trained on him.  
  
Throat dry, Sam tried to swallow nervously at the sight before managing a trembling "Nixie, sit."  
  
She resumed her silent position on the books, watching them all but seeing nothing.  
  
"I don't understand," came Dean's familiar rumble from behind. "Nixie was  _fine_  when we saw her first! She argued with Ilyana, trying to get her to back down."  
  
Everyone was silent at that. Sam cast his mind over the argument with Ilyana, remembering how the fire sprite had ordered Nixie to stand down.  
  
_You are bound as we all are to not interfere with other sprites. You must submit to me. My purpose is primary._  
  
The passage about the four different types of sprites called Sam's attention back down to the page.  _One is all and all become one..._  
  
While Sam was pulling the different shreds of information and trying to tie them all together, Dean leaned over Bobby's shoulder, a different subject already on his mind. "Why would a bunch of fire sprites want to get their mitts on Sam, anyway?"  
  
Bobby shrugged. "Honestly? I don't think they do. That's where the next type of summoning comes into play."  
  
He tapped another picture with his hand, a circle with ancient script outlining the circumference. "This here's a summoning circle. You can use it to summon any of the four elemental sprites by writing the corresponding symbol to your element of choice. Now, the sprites aren't compelled to come. They have to come on their own, and you better have a damn good reason why you summoned them when they arrive. Earth and water sprites are damn near impossible to bargain with, but you've got a good chance with an air or a fire sprite. Problem is, earth and water sprites are eternal and immortal. There's not much they want outside of their respective elements and environments, though I'm sure you could manage to convince one or two.  
  
"Air sprites are fickle, dangerous creatures to ever approach. They're described in the book as 'capricious,' so even if you manage to make a pact with one you won't know what you're gonna get. If an air sprite gets bored, she could turn on you in an instant.  
  
"Fire sprites are the most reasonable to make a pact with. They won't turn on an oath, and their blazing power is tempting to try and control. It sounds to me like this case you boys are working on has fire sprites that have been summoned to capture Sam, and we can't be sure if they want him dead or alive after the barbecuin' they nearly put you both through."  
  
Sam turned to face Bobby, "But if we're after a bunch of fire sprites, what about the other two disasters? There was an earthquake one week and a tornado the next."  
  
Bobby shrugged. "The summoner might have tried to use the others first and the sprites changed their minds, or someone might have laid out a trap they knew you'd see as a case." He gave Sam a serious look. "Sam, someone wants you, and they're determined to get you no matter how many other people get hurt."  
  
Dean dragged a chair over, leaning on the table to look at the book. "So, how do we stop them before they burn down the countryside looking for us?" he asked, intently scanning the page under Sam.  
  
Bobby leaned back with a sigh. "There's only two ways to stop the sprites unless they want to give up, and it doesn't sound to me like that Ilyana's the type to quit. You either gotta give Sam up, or kill the original sprite that was summoned. All the other sprites should be under her control and will return to their realm the moment they're freed.”  
  
Sam's breath left in a rush. "But... that's Ilyana. She's the one leading the others. I thought sprites couldn't be killed!" It bothered him to even consider killing off one of the sprites, especially after everything Nixie had done for them. That was her  _sister_  they were talking about killing.  
  
Bobby held up a hand to stall any other concerns. "Earth and  _water_  sprites can't be killed. The book says the four sprites are tied to their elements in all ways - literal aspects of fire, water, air and earth. Water and earth can always be found on our planet and will never vanish so long as their elements remain, but fire is fleeting. It burns one moment, dies the next. The same for the currents of the air. That means, if you're good enough, you can kill her."  
  
Dean scowled. "Bobby, I  _shot_ the fire sprites that were after me. They were just brought back to life by the other sprites without wasting any time."  
  
"It's what Nixie said before, isn't it?" Sam asked. When all he got out of the others was questioning looks, he shrugged. "She said that in order to heal herself, she needed either fresh water from a spring... her element... or she needed her sisters. Ilyana and the others were surrounded by their sisters the entire time we were there... that was practically a  _swarm_  of fire sprites, so it makes sense they can bring each other back."  
  
Dean sighed heavily, catching Sam off-guard when he got hit with a gust of wind. "Well, that's just great. How are we supposed to get her away from her sisters when there's so many? Unless you've got a great way to kill off an entire swarm  _together,_  we're back at step one."  
  
"No..." Sam said, deep in thought again. He crossed his arms, walking back and forth on the book. "It's not about that. We don't need to kill them  _all,_  after all, that's just adding in extra work that makes the case impossible. We need to find a way to separate her so she can't be healed by the others."  
  
"Oh," Dean snorted. "I'm sorry, that makes everything so much easier. Separating her from a bunch of sprites that can burn through almost anything."  
  
Sam jumped off the book. "Not anything. They couldn't burn though Nixie's barrier, remember?"  
  
Dean paused, thoughtful while Sam strode over to Nixie's side. "Nixie, can you make a barrier that cuts Ilyana off from the rest of her sisters?"  
  
He rolled his eyes when she didn't respond. He'd forgotten about the entire 'won't respond to anything but commands' part. "Nixie. Tell me. Can you make a barrier to cut Ilyana off from her sisters?"  
  
Nixie turned her unblinking eyes to meet Sam's. "Yes. It can be done. But I will be hurt by it, and the barrier can only extend four times my size at most, and will be ineffective without a secondary, corporeal barrier. Any larger and my power will shatter against the fire sprites.”  
  
"Corporeal?" came Dean's voice, sounding confused.  
  
"Solid, like a vase," Sam shot over his shoulder. "Nixie, tell me. When you say 'hurt,' what do you mean?"  
  
"I cannot stand against another sprite without consequence. If I fight too much, there will be nothing left to salvage of my mind."  
  
"That's why you're this way, isn't it..." Sam said quietly. "That's why you don't respond..."  
  
One last question... "Nixie... tell me... can what happened to you be fixed?"  
  
She stared unblinkingly back at him. "Yes, when I am released of my bond. If I have not been lost completely, I will be healed."  
  
Dean leaned forward unconsciously. "Release her, Sammy."  
  
"I... I can't..." Sam replied. He met Dean's gaze levelly, chewing his lip. "If I release her, she won't be able to do anything against the fire sprites. That's why she's like this in the first place... because it's the only way she could help us. The sprites, according to _this,_ " he gestured at the book, "can't fight each other. Without the bond to me, and without Ilyana's pact, they couldn't act against each other at all. We'll lose the only ace we got if I release her."  
  
Practically growling, Dean sat back. "I don't like this. How are we supposed to kill Ilyana if she's in a container  _this_  big?" He held his hands spaced about two feet apart. "I can't exactly shoot her without shooting through the container and that ruins our entire play."  
  
Bobby and Sam shared a silent look. Either Dean was the only one who hadn't figured it out, or he was desperate for another option...  
  
"Dean..." Sam said quietly. "It has to be me. I'm small enough to be trapped with her. I can do it."  
  
Dean's eyes lit with anger, glancing between Bobby and Sam with a look of betrayal. "No."  
  
Bobby tried, "Dean..."  
  
"No!" Dean stomped to his feet, slamming his chair in against the table angrily.   
  
Sam was knocked from his feet, landing on the table next to Nixie with a fearful look in his eyes at the huge, angry human. He'd never seen Dean like this before. He took a shaking breath. He could do this.  
  
Sam scrambled to his feet again. "Dean... it's the only way. You  _know_  I can handle it." Sam gave Dean his most pleading look.  
  
Bobby joined in with Sam, trying to calm the other hunter down before he did or said something he'd regret. "Dean, I’m just as worried for Sam as you are. But you know as well as I do he's more than up to the task."  
  
Dean backed a few feet away like a cornered wolf, almost snarling at Bobby. "Hell no! I'm not signing up for my  _brother's_  funeral! As soon as he's trapped with her, he's at her mercy! She already tried to blow him up!" He paused, staring straight at Sam with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or  _worse_. She doesn't blow him up. She grabs him and zaps them both off to god knows where and we never see him again!"  
  
Sam was shaking his head. "Dean, she'll be  _trapped_. She can't just 'zap off' with me the way she wants to. This will  _work_." Sam put all of his emotion, all his trust into that sentence. He couldn't convince Dean if he couldn't convince himself.  
  
Dean wavered. Sam could see it in his stance, the way he held himself uncertainly. But before Sam could call himself victorious, the glint in Dean's eyes hardened again. "No. I'm not offering you up as a sacrifice. We'll find  _another way_ ," he growled, stomping over to the table. He put his hand down right next to Sam. "We're  _leaving_ , Sam."  
  
Sam stared at the hand like it was a snake. Dean saw his hesitation. " _Well?_  Aren't you coming?" he snapped.  
  
Sam edged away from him, towards Bobby. Surely Dean wouldn't just grab him up. "No... I'm going to stay here and do some more research."  
  
Past the anger in Dean's eyes, Sam saw remorse and betrayal. Like Sam had taken a chunk out of him in his refusal.  _Please... you have to understand, Dean. I need to do this._  
  
I'm the only one who can.  
  
" _Fine,_ " Dean growled. He stomped towards the stairs. "But don't expect my help if you plan on using my  _brother_  as bait!"  
  
A door slammed upstairs, rattling the table. Sam's shoulders slumped, amazed at the amount of fear he'd felt at the unexpected anger from Dean.  
  
"He'll come 'round," Bobby said reassuringly. "Just you wait. He needs time to stew in his own juices for a bit."  
  
Sam ignored him, wheeling around towards the book on sprites. "Is there anything more on the sprites?"  
  
Research went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few answers about the winged sweeties from Aeternum. And... Dean might have a few issues with the plan. To say the least.
> 
> A brief note about the Aeternum sprites: They may be sprites in name, but a more fitting description would be to call them elementals. Their power was too much to have on the earth, so each of the four were sequestered to Aeternum upon their creation, to wait for when they were needed by either the gods or any mortals to discover their summoning. They do have the ability to leave Aeternum on their own via the portal used in the first story, they simply don't see any reason to. Probably for the best for all involved, as passions can run high when the different sisters encounter each other.
> 
> Another reason they are technically forbidden to interfere with each other... can you imagine the power of a sister squabble if she has the power of a tidal wave or an earthquake at her beck and call?
> 
> Next Chapter: October 2nd


	9. How to Handle Dean

Hours later, Sam sat back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Alright, I don't think there's anything else here," he called up to Bobby.  
  
For the most part, what they'd already discovered was all there was. Nixie was in a coma, driven there by her resistance to Ilyana. The sprites were forbidden to fight against each other, since they were made to be four parts of the same whole. It was like fighting yourself. Each time she stood against Ilyana, there would be more damage done to her mind. The only reason her body was responsive at all was due to her forced bond with Sam, otherwise she'd be lying insensate on the ground. As far as they could tell, she had hidden her mind behind a wall, protecting that inner essence that made up  _Nixie_  as best she could. The more she... or rather, her body... fought against Ilyana, the thicker the wall would become, eventually turning permanent. Immortality meant nothing if your mind was lost.  
  
Their method of fighting Ilyana was still the same. There was no other way to cut her off completely from her sisters. Even metal could be melted if the sprites jacked up the heat far enough, and with them being the very  _essence_  of flame, it wouldn't matter what type of metal was used. But they had discovered a useful ability of Nixie's - she could make it so Sam couldn't be burned, and Bobby and Dean (if he came) as well, for the duration of Sam's fight with Ilyana.  _That_  would be damn helpful.  
  
Neither of them had heard from Dean after he'd stormed out of the room. Sam occasionally peered up the stairs, hoping to catch sight of him, but there was nothing.   
  
Bobby closed up the book he was reading from at the moment. "You thinkin' of calling it a night?"   
  
"Yeah," Sam said, his eyes drawn to the stairs all over again. It was clear what was on his mind.  
  
Bobby followed Sam's gaze. "Y'know, if you don't want to stay with him while he's angry, I've got another spare bedroom. You can get some space, clear your head for the night."  
  
Sam didn't have to think about that one before he was shaking his head 'no.' The thought of staying in a human room all on his own while Dean was far away and no idea where Sam was... it was more terrifying by far than staying in the room with his grumpy brother. No matter how moody Dean was, Sam didn't doubt his safety there. "Thanks, but it wouldn't feel... right."  
  
Bobby's smile crinkled the edges of his eyes. "Alright then," he said, extending a hand to Sam. "You just tell me if you need anythin,' then. You're as much a guest in this house as anyone else ever was. More'n some, in fact."  
  
Before climbing on, Sam paused. "What about Nixie?" he called up, worrying about his comatose friend.  
  
"You don't have to worry about her," Bobby said soothingly. "I'm probably gonna be up awhile yet, I'll make sure she's taken care of."  
  
Once Sam was settled on his palm, they headed upstairs together.  "Now," Bobby said. "Dean always stays in the same room when he stops by, so I figured you might want to stay in a room of  _your_  own." He held up a finger to stave off Sam's protests when he stopped at one of the dark doorways. Even though they'd both heard the door slam shut earlier in the night, it was cracked open just enough for Sam to slip through.  
  
Sam couldn't hide a smile at that. Even angry, Dean wasn't about to put Sam out on his own. He would always watch out for his little brother.  
  
Bobby knelt down. "Under the bookshelf I cleared out a space for you to stay if you ever visit. It's sectioned off with solid wood, so no one's gettin' through unless they're your size. So, you don't ever have to worry about gettin' grabbed while you're asleep. And, I put some furniture in before it got sealed off since you can't exactly move anything in it now without takin' apart the entire shelf."  
  
After a warm thanks for Bobby's thoughtfulness, Sam slipped into the room. He was careful to wait until he heard Bobby head back down to the library. Only once he was certain the other human was back downstairs did he turn into the room. He by far preferred to know where all the humans were in the house when he was walking down on the ground on his own.  
  
Sam walked into the room, taking in his and Dean's accommodations. An old, worn rug stretched out under Sam's boots, the top of it reaching a little over the top of his boots. The sight of the dust bunnies clumped around down on the floor didn't bother Sam at all. He'd seen far worse with the atrocious cleaning at the motel he'd lived in. He was unfortunately used to the mess.  
  
The only place he'd seen unexpectedly clean was the floor of the Impala. Aside from when he was on a case and unable to get around to it, Dean kept the car in immaculate shape, both inside and outside, aside from the occasional bottlecap or wrapper, along with the occasional discarded shirt or socks. The car's upkeep seemed to calm him down and help him focus better.  
  
Sam saw exactly what Bobby had been talking about when he spotted the bookshelf. It was massive, even for a human piece of furniture, with ornate carvings of vines crawling up both sides. The bottom shelf had a third of it blocked off, sectioned so that it formed a solid, unbreachable box that was at least three times Sam's height. More ornate vines had been carved into it to help it blend into the surrounding shelf, but Sam's eyes were sharp enough to catch the differences in the wood's age.  
  
Sam climbed onto the bottom shelf, walking around the books stacked in the way to block a human's line of sight from the small entrance inside the shelf. There was a slit near the wall, just large enough for Sam himself to fit through. For the moment, he simply dropped his satchel near the opening. He could check it out later. For now, he needed to check on Dean.  
  
The larger hunter was stretched out on the only bed in the room. One arm was casually hanging off the edge, the other out of sight. Sam rolled his eyes when he saw that Dean hadn't even bothered to take his muddy boots off before lying down in the bed, leaving them stretched out overtop the blanket he was using.  
  
_Really, Dean?_  
  
At first Sam thought Dean was sleeping. After all, Bobby hadn't exactly been quiet when he dropped Sam off outside the door and Dean hadn't budged an inch since they'd come. Sam would have heard him shifting.  
  
A moment later, Sam realized that Dean was doing anything but sleeping. His face had the familiar stubborn cast of a person trying to ignore the world around them, instead of his usual relaxed posture. The reason he hadn't reacted to Sam or Bobby became clear when he caught sight of the earbuds in Dean's ears.   
  
Dean just wasn't going to make this easy on him.  
  
With a world-weary sigh, Sam jogged over to the bed. If Dean refused to listen to him, he'd find a way to  _make_  Dean listen, whatever it took. A brief shiver went up his back when he remembered how  _big_  Dean was, but it faded away faster this time. Dean was his brother and would never do anything to him and he  _knew_  that. Sam was finally recovering after being taken those months ago. He just needed time.  
  
Sam grabbed the edge of the bed cover, hauling himself up the sheer cliff with no need for his fishhook or line. A climbing surface like the cover offered plenty of handholds and places to grip. He was careful to stay clear of the hand that was hanging off the bed, spotting it silently twitching in time with the song Dean was listening to at the moment. He didn’t want to get knocked off the bed by accident.  
  
Once he made it to the top of the bed Sam wasted no time in climbing up Dean himself. He felt the hunter freeze up under him the second he made contact, then smirked as Dean tried to force himself to relax and ignore Sam.  _You already gave yourself away, jackass. That wasn't exactly your most subtle move. I know you're awake and you know I'm here._  
  
Sam jogged up Dean's stomach, ignoring the way the uneven ground gave way beneath his feet. That was normal enough for him these days. It was hardly the first time he'd walked on Dean, though it was the first he'd been ignored while walking up. For all the good  _that_  would do Dean. Sam felt a spark of determination fill him. Dean would listen to him.  
  
With that in mind, Sam brought his boot down on the cord of Dean's headphones, yanking one of the buds out of his ears. Dean's eyes flashed open before he could catch himself, an annoyed look in his stare when he caught sight of Sam standing on his chest with arms stubbornly crossed over  _his_  chest.

[You're Standing on My Headphones](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/art/you-re-standing-on-my-headphones-512123359) by [Obsess-Confess](http://obsess-confess.deviantart.com/)  
  
"Dude, you're standing on my headphones," Dean grumbled, the ground under Sam vibrating. The quiet sound of  _Smoke on the Water_  leaked out of the free bud.  
  
"Yeah. That's kind of the point," Sam said, meeting Dean levelly in the eyes. "We need to talk."  
  
Dean sighed, dropping his head back down on the pillow. "What's there to talk about? I already  _told_  you what I think and you don't care."  
  
"Dean..." Sam sat down, crossing his legs. The ground below rose and fell beneath him in slow, reassuring movements as he distractedly picked at a loose thread in Dean's flannel.  _How can he think I don't care?_  
  
Dean groaned, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. "You're not gonna just leave me alone, are you?" he grumbled.  
  
"You're not getting out of this that easy and you know it, Dean."  
  
Sam sat there patiently, knowing he could easily outlast Dean like this if he just put his mind to it. Dean was effectively stuck with Sam sitting casually on his chest.  
  
He had to hide a grin of victory, when, after less than five minutes, Dean's chest jumped in another sigh.  
  
"Y'know," Dean said sullenly, craning his neck so he could catch sight of Sam and level a glare at him, "I could just drop you down on the floor."  
  
Sam sent him a bitchface for that in return, but an understanding one. "We both know you'd never do that."  _Could_  wasn't the same as  _would_ , after all. Sam took care to read between the lines while Dean was so upset. He didn't want to risk pushing Dean too far over the edge with their differences in the way.  
  
Aggravated, Dean yanked his other earbud out with a scowl. "What's there to talk about, anyway? You and Bobby already decided what you're doing. It doesn't  _matter_  what I say."  
  
"Dean... that's not true and you know it." Sam shifted in place a little, trying to think of how he could best put this. "You  _know_  I can do this. Why don't you trust me to get the job done?"  
  
Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You think this is about trust? Sam, I  _know_  you can get the job done, better than anyone else we know. But this... we're throwing you at someone who already tried to kill you. Tried to kill  _both_  of us!"  
  
Sam flinched as Dean's voice rose, surrounding him on all sides. Dean noticed immediately, dropping down to a softer tone.  
  
"Sam, no cause is worth sacrificing my little brother like this. We'll find another way. We always do."  
  
Sam was shaking his head even as Dean finished. "There  _isn't_  another way," he said softly. "Ilyana's sisters aren't going anywhere as long as she's here - she's the one controlling them, after all. If we can't separate her from them, we can't stop any of them. We have a way to separate her that works if I'm the one facing her. Nixie can enchant an item that can trap her with me inside."  
  
"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "That protects you and her from the outside, sure. But what's gonna stop her from slamming you with one of those fireballs once it's just the two of you?"  
  
Sam gave Dean his most confident grin back.  _This_  was where he needed the confidence. There was no other way to convince Dean. "Nixie. We discovered she has a way she can guard... me and Bobby... from the fire at the same time as she's keeping Ilyana contained."   
  
He'd almost said Dean instead of Bobby there. _Dean, can't you see I need you, here?  
  
I don't want to do this alone._  
  
Dean, oblivious to Sam's train of thought, frowned in concentration. "So, what's the plan for finding her again? You can't exactly track her down like we did earlier, we know that's a trap and you can't set up a trap for a trap. She'll see you coming from a mile away. How do you plan on catching her off guard?"  
  
Sam stubbornly pushed on with the plan they had in mind, Dean or no Dean. "Well, we found a summoning ritual, right? I figure we find an abandoned house somewhere that no one will notice if it's burned down. Bobby goes into hiding with Nixie and I work the ritual. Once Ilyana shows - and she will, I know it - I convince her that I'll come willingly. Then, as soon as she goes to make her move, Bobby drops a vase or box, or whatever we find to fit over us, and I do what I have to."  
  
"No."  
  
Confused, Sam glanced up from the thread he was worrying. "Dean, this is what  _has_  to be done," Sam said, keeping his tone gentle and calm, the best way to talk to an intransigent Dean. He understood his brother's protectiveness, but... "People could  _die_ if the sprites aren't stopped."  
  
"No, Sam. That's not what I meant..." Dean trailed off uncertainly. He played with the earbuds until he could bring himself to finish. "Sam, if anyone's holding that vase over your head, it's  _me._  I'm not trusting your safety to anyone else, not even Bobby."  
  
Sam sprang to his feet. "Does this mean...?" He couldn't hold in the sudden surge of hope that welled up in his chest.  
  
"Yeah, I'll come," Dean grumbled. "Someone's gotta keep Bobby's ass alive and keep  _you,_ " Sam got poked lightly in the side, "out of trouble."  
  
Sam merely brushed off his jacket, opting to ignore the poke. "I always keep out of trouble," he said dryly. " _You're_  the one that needs a babysitter."  
  
"You keep thinking that," Dean said, settling back down into his pillows.  
  
"Guess I'll let you get back to your music, then," Sam said, curiously eyeing the small iPod Nano curled up in Dean's other hand. He'd never seen it before, and he thought he'd seen all of Dean's belongings by now. How in the world had he missed it? Considering most of Dean's belongings were bigger than Sam, he usually noticed everything.  
  
"Sam, wait."  
  
Sam turned back around, seeing the green eyes open again and focused back on him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Just... how are  _you_  doing? After me grabbing you during the fight?" Concern was etched in Dean's brow.  
  
Sam shrugged, starting his climb down Dean's side. "I'm fine. You know, that has nothing to do with you, right? I just..." his memory flashed to the days of being separated from Dean. Hands, and crushing, and ignoring what he said... having his boots ripped off his feet and being sized like he was nothing more than a fancy doll. He'd been treated as an object, not a person. "I just need a little time, that's all."  
  
"Alright. Just remember I'm here if you need me, okay?"  
  
Sam's lips twitched into a smile. Dean never seemed to realized how good of a brother he was sometimes. "No problem."  
  
"Oh, and Sam?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Before we head out and toss you to Ilyana, we're having a quick lesson with that knife of yours, get you ready for some hand to hand combat."  
  
Sam pursed his lips, trying to think of how that could  _possibly_  work. "Um... okay. If you have a way that works, I'm all for it."  
  
Dean leaned his head back, tucking his earbuds back into his ears. Sam smiled when he started to hum along with the music in his buds. It served as a nice background noise to counteract the silence of the immense new house they were in, helping him push away that constant, nagging fear that was always at the back of his mind these days.  
  
Once he was down from the bed, Sam set off towards his new place to sleep. If Bobby had told the truth about what was under the bookshelf, he didn't have to worry about getting Dean up again to go get his bed, or sleeping with his satchel as a pillow.  
  
It only took him a minute to cross the bedroom floor. He climbed up into the bookshelf, slipping behind the line of books once again and scooping his satchel off the ground where he'd dropped it. He had to admit he was excited when he slipped through the slit in the wall. Aside from his home with Walt and Mallory, he'd never had a place to call his own. In his life with Dean, this might be the closest he'd ever come.  
  
The first thing he noticed about the room was the light. Hidden in the swoops and swirls of the intricate vine carvings outside were small slits, cut to let in light and air in an elegant fashion. There was a bed pushed against the wall, with sheets and a comforter all sized for Sam to use.   
  
At the foot of the bed was an addition that made him smile. It had most likely started out life as a simple chest for a dollhouse like most items his size, but the initials  _S. W._  had been carved into it, making it his own.  
  
Sam brushed a hand overtop as he dropped his satchel nearby. A room of his own, no need to rely on a simple wall of books placed in front of his bed by Dean, no worrying about the possibility of being snatched up... by  _anyone_. Sam had a place to call his own. Too bad Dean couldn't see the inside. He'd love the setup.  
  
Before calling it a night, Sam carefully peeled off his burned jacket. He folded it slowly, reverentially. He only had a few jackets made by Mallory anymore, and it was high time to retire this one with the large scorch mark covering an entire arm. In the new clothing given to him by Krissy there were newer jackets modeled the same, but he hated to give up one of the few items he had left of his adopted mother.  
  
He tucked it in the bottom of the chest, folding the burnt sleeve so it couldn't be seen. The chest was closed with care.  
  
After, Sam only paused to yank off his boots and socks and toss them in an empty corner of the room. He wouldn't have to worry about his socks magically disappearing in here, easily blown away by a breeze or vanishing in the folds of Dean's clothing or the sheets on one of the motel room beds. Humans who complained about having a hard time keeping track of their socks had no idea how hard it was to do the same when you were under a foot tall. At least he had a few new pairs now, courtesy of Krissy.  
  
That done, Sam collapsed face first on the bed and buried his face in the pillows. With Dean humming  _Ramble On_  in the distance and the knowledge he was safe, Sam drifted off into a dreamless, healing slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam might be small, but he's never had a problem handling that brother of his. No matter how ornery Dean gets, there's always a four inch guy that can get through to him.
> 
> Next Chapter: October 9th


	10. Knife Lessons

The next morning found both brothers out of bed at the crack of dawn, facing off.  
  
Not directly, of course, but Sam had his knife drawn and held out in front of him as he attempted to mimic Dean's fighting stance.  
  
Because of his curse as a child, Sam had missed out on the regimen of training John had put Dean through growing up to prepare him for life as a hunter. Hand-to-hand combat, target practice, weapons training... Dean excelled at self-defense and was built for combat. Sam, though toned and muscled from years of climbing, was thoroughly unprepared to face someone on the same scale as him. It had never been necessary before.  
  
Sweat dripped down Sam's neck, part exertion and part nerves. Facing down the colossal hunter in a fighting stance, his own knife drawn and held at the ready, was not for the faint of heart.  
  
Dean's knife alone was over twice Sam's size, and this was one of the rare occasions it had ever been leveled in his direction. While Sam was standing on the desk against the wall, Dean had cleared out the center of the floor to give himself plenty of room to demonstrate moves.  
  
Sam had to work to follow his brother's broad, sweeping motions, but after each demonstration Dean would come over and watch Sam's attempt carefully. He'd offer tips and pointers and on occasion would adjust Sam's stance or his arms with the light touch of a finger. Sam couldn't help but feel like Dean was adjusting an action figure, the way those huge fingers would cautiously extend his arm or move his feet in the correct direction, but those worries were always dispelled after a simple glance upwards.  
  
Dean had been serious the entire morning, focusing on Sam's training with complete dedication. Not a single joke had come out since they started, not even a nickname. They both understood that Sam would need those moves soon enough, when he faced off against Ilyana. If he lost, they all lost, and there would be no way for Dean or Bobby to help him once he was sealed off from them.  
  
"Make sure to keep your wrist locked when you attack, but remember, if she gets hold of your arm she could knock the knife out of your hand," Dean explained. "Be ready to move at any moment and don't drop your guard for a  _second_  while you're in there."  
  
Sam adjusted so his wrist was locked, holding out the knife for Dean to check. A finger gently came up under his arm, nudging it to see how solid Sam's grip was. "Good..." Dean muttered. "Now, if she disarms you, what's your play?"  
  
Sam considered his options, thinking of the small dragon-like girl. He would only need to take on the one, thankfully, so they didn't have to cover multiple opponents in this lesson. "Don't let her grab me and keep clear of her arms. I need to get the knife back as soon as possible, but an unarmed fight isn't out of the question."  
  
"Right, and remember, the baddies we fight are usually stronger than us. You gotta keep them from getting a hold on you. The second a werewolf or vampire digs its fangs or claws in, it could all be over. Chances are it's the same with the sprites. She grabs you, there's no telling what happens."  
  
Dean straightened again, moving back to the center of the room. "Now, we should cover some defense before we finish up for the day... this is the reverse knife edge out grip..."  
  
The lesson continued.  
  


* * *

  
After around an hour more of training, Dean decided it was time to call it a day. Sam would need his strength for the upcoming fight, that was for sure, and wasting it all on training would do more harm than good.  
  
Dean grabbed an older shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. "I think that covers it. We'll have to do this again, but for what we're planning, you should be ready to face Ilyana."  
  
Sam contemplated his knife before slipping it into his jacket. He'd been keen on the lesson, learning each grip Dean demonstrated with a single-minded dedication. In fact, he'd taken to the style of fighting faster than Dean had. There was no way of knowing if that was because he was older while he was learning or because he was a natural. There was more than a little pride in Dean at his brother's adaptability.  
  
Dean tossed his dirty shirt on the bed. "Alright, so I'm gonna run downstairs and grab us a little snack before we head out. Anything you want?"  
  
There was no reply.  
  
Surprised, Dean glanced back at Sam. After all that training right off the bat in the morning, Sam had to be starving. Dean sure was. "Sam?"  
  
What he saw dropped his heart through the floor and collapsed the building on top of it.  
  
Sam was crumpled on the surface of the desk, his arms up over his head and shaking violently. He gave no reaction to Dean coming over and leaning down, trying to find out what had caused this reaction in Sam.  
  
When Dean was close enough, he could make out the quiet, stuttered words from Sam.  
  
"N-no, never, you'll never  _own_  me, Dean'll hunt you down, he'll never give up..." As though in response to something in his mind, Sam writhed, crying out in pain and clutching his wounded arm.  
  
Dean froze up, frantically scouring the last few minutes, trying to figure out what had happened. What had made Sam freak out like this?  
  
The blood drained from his face when he recalled what Sam had told him about his abduction, that first night he'd been back...  
  
" _They didn't want to permanently damage their prize. Just make me pliable and compliant. The perfect pet. Isabelle's little snack..._ "  
  
" _They told me 'Little snacks like me shouldn't talk back to their betters._ ' "  
  
"Shit..." Dean breathed, realizing what he'd done.  _I'm gonna run downstairs and grab us a little snack..._  
  
Dean dropped to his knees, hovering uncertainly over Sam. "I didn't mean it... please, Sam, I didn't mean it... you  _have_  to believe me..."  
  
None of his words broke through to Sam. At the sound of the deep, thundering voice over him, Sam curled into an even tighter ball with his hands held defensively over his head and neck. Trying to protect himself from a  _human._  
  
What those people had done to Sam... Dean suddenly wished he'd done more than knock out and tie up Chance and had the others thrown in jail... they deserved so much more for what they'd done to Sam... what they'd put  _all_  those people through.  
  
"Sam, you're okay. You're here, with me." Tentatively, Dean reached out a finger, brushing over Sam's head to tussle his hair for reassurance like normal.  
  
The reaction was instantaneous. Sam's entire body seized up, desperate to avoid the finger. He quivered in place as Dean drew away, a crushing ball of ice forming in his chest.  
  
"Okay..." Dean said, lowering his voice. He switched tactics. "No hands. I get that. I wouldn't want to be touched either. But you're not there anymore. You're here, with me. We're at Bobby's, in our own room where no one can hurt us."  
  
While he spoke in a low voice, Dean settled down on the floor, leaning against the desk. He continued talking, trying to reassure Sam and let him know he was safe.  
  
"Those people can never touch you again, Sam. I promise. We took care of them and they'll never hurt anyone again. You made it _out,_  kid! And you saved all the others. Without you, they'd still be trapped." Dean's voice grew urgent as he went on, desperate to break through the wall separating them. "Sam, you're with me. With  _Dean_. I promise... I promise I'll always be here for you, no matter what. Even when you can't accept the help, it'll always be there waiting."  
  
He continued on like that for a good long time, eventually tapering off to catch a breath. The silence dragged out between them, nothing changing. Then...  
  
"D-Dean?" Sam's voice came, small and wavering. It was so quiet Dean almost didn't catch the words.  
  
Hearing his name in that soft voice made Dean's face blossom into an unexpected smile. "Yeah, Sammy. I'm here."  
  
Sam sat up unsteadily with a hand held against his forehead. "Wh-what just happened...? How did I get here? I was just with --"  
  
"You had a flashback," Dean interrupted gently. "You were never there with them. You were here with me the whole time. Safe. I won't ever let them near you again."  
  
Sam rubbed his hands up his arms uncertainly. "Y-you sure? I... I really thought..."  
  
"Absolutely certain." Dean searched Sam's face for any trace of his fear, but found nothing. "You need anything... maybe a drink of water?"  
  
"N-no. No. I'm... I'll be fine. I will. Yeah. Just... give me a few minutes, okay?"  
  
"No problem." Dean started to reach out to ruffle Sam's hair again but stopped as the reaction he'd received during Sam's panic attack rose to mind. He stood instead, hoping to give Sam some space. "I'm gonna... go grab us some food downstairs. You want anything?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck while he talked, wishing he didn't come off as so big and threatening around Sam. All he wanted to do was help.  
  
"Food? You're gonna go downstairs?" Sam's face turned ashen. "Don't... don't leave me alone in here. Please. I can't..." His face flushed with embarrassment. "Can I come with you? I mean... I don't have to... I just don't..."  
  
"It's okay," Dean managed to slip in between the stutterings. "Of course you can come. I won't leave you here alone if you don't want me to."  
  
He held a hand out to Sam slowly, keeping a gentle expression on his face. He didn't want to startle Sam anymore than he already had, and this panic attack had been more severe than the last. He fervently hoped they would taper off, but who knew... for now he just needed to make sure Sam knew he'd always be there for him.  
  
Once he had Sam in hand, they both went downstairs to get ready for the coming battle.  
  


* * *

  
A little over an hour later, all three hunters were gathered downstairs, ready to head out. Dean and Bobby were checking their ammo and handguns while Sam made sure for the seventeenth time since leaving his bedroom that his knife was on him and in a good place in his jacket.  
  
Bobby had run out at the crack of dawn to grab supplies for the summoning ritual along with food for the house. He'd tried to go out before anyone else was up, but of course Sam and Dean had been hard at work training. He did manage to get it all done and get back before either brother realized he wasn't around, however.  
  
Breakfast had been fast and cobbled together, but still good. Dean had poked grumpily at the fruit Bobby had brought back and stuck with cereal, while Sam got to have fresh banana and apple slices, leaning against Dean's cereal bowl the entire time. It may have been a simple breakfast, but all of them got enough energy to face the day (and Dean slid a pack of beef jerky in his pocket for later when no one was paying attention to him).  
  
As Sam readied himself on the table, Dean grabbed his keys.  
  
Bobby snorted at him. "Where do you think you're going with those?" he asked dryly.  
  
Dean was about to shoot a comeback at him when rememberance flashed over his face. The Impala was out of commission.  
  
"You got a better plan?" Dean grumbled.  
  
Bobby dangled his own keys at Dean and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Shotgun!" Sam called out innocently before Dean could shoot out a retort.  
  
Both of the other hunters just stared at Sam.  
  


* * *

  
You could _technically_  say Sam was riding shotgun, if by 'shotgun' you meant 'sitting on the shoulder of the guy riding shotgun.'  
  
He'd foregone his normal spot on Dean's right shoulder and moved over to the left, opting to sit where he could be included in the hunters’ conversation over him. He wanted them both to take him just as seriously as any other hunter and felt the need to prove himself, being constantly surrounded by huge and intimidating hunters like Dean and Bobby. It didn't matter that they'd never given him a reason to think he was looked down on at all, but...   
  
After encountering John and his clear opinion that Sam was incapable of surviving without Dean, it was just the way he felt.  
  
"Y'know, I totally called this spot, jerk," Sam joked, elbowing Dean in the neck with a sharp jab.  
  
Dean couldn't help but smirk at Sam's brashness. "Oh yeah? Lemme guess - you wanted the leg room, right?" he jabbed back.  
  
Sam leaned pointedly back against Dean's neck, right near the reassuring  _thud-thud_ that marked a pulse. He stretched out first one leg, then the other, making sure to let the heel of his boots dig in a little deeper in the muscle than normal as he stretched out. "That's right. I wanted the leg room. We all know which of us is the tall one here."  
  
Neither of them could hide a smirk at the not-so-subtle reference to Sam's first time being drunk, when he'd declared himself 'taller' than Dean or John. Bobby, having no idea what Sam was referring too, let his eyes flick quickly between the two, trying to hide his confusion.  
  
The light banter helped keep the cloud of worry at bay. Nixie sat protectively cupped in Dean's hand at the moment, seeing yet not seeing with her expressionless, emotionless white eyes. She was a constant reminder of how dire their situation was, no matter how much they joked.  
  
Bobby had managed to track down an abandoned house out in the boonies. There were no other houses around, and no trees or forests nearby, so if it went up in smoke no one would care.  
  
The plan was to do the summoning ritual on a table, leaving Sam on his 'own,' with Dean and Bobby in hiding nearby. With any luck, Ilyana lacked Nixie's ability to sense minds and emotions and they'd be able to surprise her. Sam would summon her, and the moment Dean was certain Ilyana was distracted, he'd slam the vase over both of them, leaving Sam to finish the fight. Bobby would watch Dean's back, taking out any other fire sprites that tried to interfere, and Nixie would focus on her enchantments with no other choice.  
  
Foolproof, or so they hoped.  
  
Once Ilyana was gone, the hold on the other sprites would fade. Because they were not the ones that had made the pact, they would have no interest or desire on their own to finish the job given to Ilyana. They would return to Aeternum. Dean just needed to make sure that Ilyana was cut off until all of the other sprites left, otherwise the battle would continue on as though nothing had happened.  
  
That was the key.  
  
Sam sighed as he leaned back. He could barely sit still with the nerves in him from the upcoming battle. He'd been in tough situations before, but he'd never known ahead of time what he'd be facing. Here, he knew exactly what needed to happen. And he was nervous.  
  
Once this started, there would be no one that could help him. Bobby and Dean might as well be in a different world once that vase closed over his head. Sam gave a slight shiver at the thought, remembering how it would be Dean himself trapping Sam like that. _It's not like it's what he wants to do... it's the last thing Dean would ever do if we weren't desperate. He'll get me out, no matter what._  
  
 _I can trust him to do this._  
  
Sam swallowed as the house came into view. Dean held up a hand, gently nudging him in the side. "You ready for this, pint-size?"  
  
A calm settled over Sam as he steeled himself. "I'm ready."  
  
He didn't blink as Bobby parked. "I can do this."  
  


* * *

  
The ritual was simple.  
  
In broad strokes of the chalk, Bobby drew the summoning circle on the table, carefully filling in the elegant designs that stood for each of the four sprites at each pole, with a larger symbol in the center for the fire sprites. There was no question in anyone's mind that the moment Ilyana sensed the summoning from Sam, she would be the one to answer. Her desperation had been clear in the way she'd reacted when Sam refused her advances.  
  
The pact she'd made for Sam's life must be for something she wanted more than anything else in the world.  
  
Once everything was set and a shallow bowl sat in the center of the circle overtop the image of the fire sprite they hoped to summon, Bobby and Dean took their leave. Bobby was now holding Nixie in his hands and Dean had a tall, clear vase held in his own. Sam's heart thumped with nerves every time he caught sight of it, knowing he would be trapped helplessly in it soon enough. Already the blue sheen of a protective barrier lit up the glass, held in place by Nixie's soft chants. She'd done the same to the three hunters as well, after Sam made sure Ilyana would not be able to sense the barriers ahead of time.  
  
As it turned out, each of the four sprites had their own mental ability. Nixie, naturally, was an empath, able to understand the hearts around her and share in their emotions. Ilyana, being a fire sprite, was able to influence minds. It wasn't full mind control, but a subliminal influence. She could peck and pry at mental walls until they collapsed if she was given the chance. Even control other sprites, like the fire sprites she'd summoned to help in her dangerous quest.  
  
He was a bit unclear what the other two varieties of sprites had for abilities. From what he could tell from his readings on the air sprites, their ability had to do with some type of mental block - very useful when you deal with empaths and controllers on a daily basis. The earth sprites hadn't even been mentioned. They were so reclusive, and so rarely seen, that no one even suspected their innate abilities.  
  
Now, Sam waited, watching Dean slip into a broom closet nearby and Bobby into the other room. The door of the broom closet stayed open just enough for Dean to be able to see what was happening in the room beyond. He needed to be able to catch Sam and Ilyana both in the vase on his first try. Anything less would mean failure and Ilyana would figure out their game plan.  
  
Sam shook his arms out, trying to limber up for the coming battle. With the vase out of sight again, that same calm settled over him. The calm of battle. He could do this. He was ready.  
  
With everything in place, Sam stepped up to the shallow bowl. A few dried herbs that Bobby had brought with them sat in the center. He began to chant the summoning ritual, holding his knife against his palm. At the very end of the chant, he sliced his hand open, squeezing out the blood.  
  
With the ritual done, he waited.  
  


* * *

  
Dean was almost holding his breath as Sam completed the summoning ritual. His entire body was on edge, watching as Sam put himself in danger for all of them.  
  
But what choice did he have? If it wasn't Dean here, holding the damn vase, it would be Bobby. He couldn't stop Sam from doing this - that would make him as bad as those people who kidnapped Sam and held him against his will. No, what he could do was make sure he was there to haul Sam's ass out of the literal fire Ilyana would throw at it the moment she figured out their plan.  
  
Dean's  _only_ choice.  
  
His hands tightened nervously on the vase. If anything, he was more nervous than Sam. In a few seconds or minutes, that same vase in his hands would become Sam's prison, held in place by Dean himself. Trapping his brother the way he'd sworn he never would.  
  
But it had to be done and Dean refused to trust anyone else with Sam's life to that extent. Not even Bobby.  
  
Through the crack in the door, Dean watched Sam's slight frame as the other hunter sliced open his palm, letting the tiny blood drops hit the dried herbs in the bowl.  
  
Luckily, the spell hadn't specified a specific amount of blood for it to work, otherwise Dean or Bobby would have had to do it. They could both afford to lose a lot more blood than Sam. The problem was, the summons wasn't compulsory, and Ilyana would see through their trap instantly if it was anyone but Sam. There would be a good chance of failure.  
  
With Sam doing the summoning, she would be drawn to them like a fly to honey.  
  
Sam stepped back from the bowl, waiting patiently. Dean tensed, ready to leap out the moment he spotted an opening. Ilyana would have to be  _close_  to Sam for this to work. Dean needed them both inside the vase on his first try. Anything less would be courting failure, which was unacceptable for him.  
  
"You boys are in a  _lot_ of trouble," came a bright voice from right next to Dean's ear.  
  
Caught off guard, Dean did a full body flinch, reminiscent of Sam when he was caught off guard by Dean. He twisted in place to see who was talking, barely avoiding the door as he did so. Bumping it like that would give away his hiding place.  
  
Suspended in midair, delicate wings extended, was a fire sprite. Her longer, brighter red hair and sinuous tail derailed the initial assumption that it was Ilyana herself hiding behind him, though the bright red-eyed glare was the same.  
  
"Can you not just leave?" she asked, her voice pleading. Tendrils of thought wound their way into Dean's mind as she spoke, infecting his thoughts and taking root. The hunter was as helpless to her control as he'd been to Nixie's empathy. Her eyes glowed. "We will not harm the small human. There is only danger so long as  _you_  are here, child."  
  
Dean's grip on the vase wavered. Surely Sam would be safer if he left... after all, they only wanted to _take_ Sam with them. They hadn't tried to kill anyone until  _Dean_  had appeared. It had been his fault. It was always his fault.  
  
At the sight of Dean's weakness, the sprite came closer, drifting on a nonexistent breeze. She had found the chink in his armor that she could use. She dug in her advantage, pushing through Dean's sudden doubt. "If you leave, he lives. If you stay, he dies. All die. This is not what you want, therefore what you want is to leave."  
  
"Yeah..." Dean said, beginning to agree with her twisted, circular reasoning. He lowered the vase, blinking slowly. The roots of her control curled deeper into the crevices of his mind, latching onto Dean's drive to keep Sam safe and turning it against him.  
  
A soft buzzing began to fill Dean's mind, trying to free him from the insidious tendrils of the fire sprite control. Dean shook his head, trying to clear his mind of all the intrusions.  
  
The sprite pushed harder, using her will like a hammer now that she had her weapon. "If you remain, Sam will die. You will be the one to kill him.  _You_  will kill your brother. Sam will die at your hands. You know this to be true."  
  
Dean quailed at the thought. Images were pried free of his subconscious, repressed fears brought into the light of day. He was forced to live through them as though he was there, his hand clenched around Sam and squeezing... Sam's trusting expression transforming to horror and betrayal even as the fragile bones begin to snap in Dean's unforgiving grasp.  
  
An immense boot pressed down, catching Sam off guard. He went sprawling and could only stare in horror as the boot moved over his entire body. His mouth was open in an unheard cry as the boot came slamming down, killing him just like the spider Dean had stomped on.  
  
 **No.**  
  
The buzzing in his mind solidified into a calming blue presence.  
  
 **You will not harm your brother.**  
  
The voice was familiar, but ancient. The blue washed over Dean's mind like a gentle stream, loosening the mental hold the fire sprite had on him just as a stream washes away the pebbles at the bottom. The images of him hurting and killing Sam wavered, then vanished.  
  
 **Sam trusts you. Sam is counting on you.**  
  
New images came, this time from Dean's memory.   
  
Sam, sitting trustingly on Dean's plate, ignoring the giant fork next to him as it spears food as big as he is.  
  
Sam, climbing up Dean's arm without any qualms. He barely notices when Dean shifts in place, impatient to leave.  
  
Sam, jumping off a countertop in a raging firestorm. Dean, his only hope of survival, is only at the stairs. Time stands still as Dean runs to catch Sam in his hands. For a moment he's afraid to look at what he caught, afraid he hurt Sam in his panic. His brother is so small and so vulnerable while Dean has the subtlety of a brick wall. But the other hunter is fine, more concerned about the dangerous sprites circling them than his last-second rescue.  
  
 **You will not let him down.**  
  
With that solid assurance, the mental influence Dean was under shattered, washed away like debris in the ocean. With a gasp, Dean almost fell over, tightening his grip on the vase once more.  
  
Shocked, the fire sprite backpedaled from him. "Impossible!" she exclaimed. A fireball flared into existence by her side.  
  
"Think again, Tinkerbell," Dean growled. He slammed forward at her with the vase as her fireball shot right for his face.  
  
He had a job to do.  
  


* * *

  
Sam paced back and forth on the table, wondering pensively how long the summoning would take.  
  
A breeze drifted through the room, scattering some of the herbs in the bowl nearby. Without warning, the constant prickling on the back of Sam's neck, the one way he could tell that he was being watched, vanished.  
  
Sam's heart froze.  _Dean._  
  
 _Something must have happened to him. He'd never take his eyes off me otherwise._  
  
His eyes reflexively sought out the closet Dean was hiding in, but could see nothing past the small crack in the door.  
  
"Sam Winchester."  
  
And then it was too late.  
  
Sam slowly turned around to face the person he knew was standing behind him. Ilyana.  
  
She was perched on the edge of the shallow bowl with both wings outstretched. Her soft pink toes curled around the edge for balance. "You have summoned me," she intoned, "and I have come. Have you decided to accept my offer?"  
  
Instead of answering, Sam prowled around the outskirts of the bowl, taking himself away from the sheer cliff at the edge of the table. He'd have to stall for Dean. There was nothing else to it.  
  
"Ilyana, why are you doing this?" Sam asked pleadingly. "Me and Dean never did anything to hurt you, why do you want to kill us?"  
  
Only her head turned to follow him, large, liquid eyes tracking his progress. "It matters not what you have done in the past," she said in a clipped tone. "What is important is a pact has been made that I shall uphold."  
  
"What  _pact?_  " Sam pressed. "What's worth so much that you'd risk hurting innocents for?" He took a few cautious steps in her direction. "What's worth fighting Nixie, your sister?"  
  
Her eyes lit with anger. "Nixie," she spat. "A  _water sprite_. Eternal, unending. They act as though they are better than us just because they  _live longer_. " Her wings fanned open impatiently. "If you will not come willingly, I will  _make_  you come."  
  
That was the only warning he got before she clapped her wings together and shot at him. Sam dove into a clumsy roll to escape her attack, another technique Dean had taught him that morning.  
  
Clumsy or not, it worked. Ilyana sailed harmlessly by, catching herself seconds later with a fast, midair spiral. She came at him again.  
  
An explosion from the closet caught them both off guard, upsetting Ilyana's second attack. Sam tossed his hands up in surprise before remembering he was warded against fire. Dean tumbled out of the closet, vase still in hand, followed by a second sprite.  
  
Gunshots from the living room signaled the start of Bobby's own encounter with the fire sprites.  
  
Sam shared a glance with Dean.  _We need to finish this now_ , he thought to himself.  
  
Dean nodded silently, holding up the vase. He was ready.  
  
With that, Sam dove at Ilyana. He tackled her in midair, sending them both tumbling across the tabletop tangled in each other’s arms.  
  
A thunderous explosion signaled the vase landing around them, sealing them off from the world.   
  
The real battle began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come. Ilyana vs. Sam. Who will come out on top?
> 
> Next: October 16th


	11. Sprite Showdown

The moment the vase closed around them, Ilyana writhed viciously, trying to bring her sharp claws to bear.  
  
Sam managed to kick free, rolling a few inches away from her on the table to get his bearings. She caught herself before she rolled in turn, sharp claws sinking effortlessly into the soft wood below. Fangs flashed into view as her head snapped up, wings flaring as she went on the attack.  
  
There was just as much pandemonium outside the vase as well as inside. Past Dean's huge hands holding them prisoner, Sam could make out Bobby as he barreled into the room, gun in one hand, knife in the other.  
  
The fire sprites concentrated their rage on the two humans now, ignoring the house around them in favor of freeing their trapped sister. Ilyana, still in control of the others, knew she couldn't risk being separated from them this way.  
  
Bobby was a whirlwind, his knife flashing in and out of the the action while the gun took care of the rest. One after the other, he sliced or shot through the sprites, making them puff out in small explosions that were soon enough reformed. The sprites were forced to fall back. They didn't have enough sprites to attack and heal at the same time.  
  
Dean was forced to be a spectator to both battles, shouting out directions to Bobby in the room when he saw a sprite that had been missed, and unable to help Sam out in the battle happening right between his own two hands. Even his voice was no more than a rumble overhead for Sam, the words blocked by Nixie's barrier.   
  
Sam dodged under Ilyana's latest lunge, stumbling when he was clipped by the edge of a wing. She was vicious and deadly, angered by her imprisonment. Her eyes almost glowed red with her rage, brought forth by the sheer amount of flame she channeled at him.  
  
Sam kept her distracted, knowing she couldn't be given a chance to focus and think. If she did, she might remember that they were standing on a wooden table. She could burn through it and end this fight in seconds if she did. Sam would plummet to his death, with or without Nixie's protective barrier around him, and even if he didn't die in the fall, Ilyana would have him in her clutches at last. He would find out for himself who her summoner was and what it was they wanted of him.  
  
Catching his balance, Sam yanked out his silver blade. "Ilyana, end this!" he shouted. Inside the glass barrier, his voice echoed flatly, the air deadened around them. It gave a sense of aloneness, abandonment, even though he could see Dean's green eyes peering down at them from above and feel the suddenly reassuring prickle on the back of his neck the entire time. They were alone, yet not. A strange feeling that didn't make sense to him.   
  
"All you have to do is promise to stop and you can leave here in peace!"  
  
Hissing angrily, Ilyana straightened, her wings twitching outwards. "Never," she barked. "You will be mine! I will have my reward!"  
  
With that, she tossed herself in the air, heedless of the tiny space they were in. There wasn't enough room for her wings to extend halfway, nevermind a full flap. She slammed into Sam, almost knocking the knife out of his hands before he could bring it to bear against her. Her clawed hand closed around his wrist, locking it in place as she slammed him against the wall of the vase. She pinned him to the glass with an arm, snarling in his face.

_Ilyana versus Sam by[foolscapper](http://foolscapper.tumblr.com/)_

  
Ilyana, though a small sprite to Dean and Bobby, was four inches tall, leaving her Sam's equal in height. Long-limbed and muscled, Ilyana was built for combat more than Nixie had ever been. It may have been her bond with the fire-drakes that did it, but it made fighting her dangerous. Even her wings were sturdy and strong compared to the delicate dragonfly wings of the water sprites. Sam was just lucky she was too young to have a tail, because that might have done him in there and then.

Rumbles echoed overhead. Dean was shouting instructions at Sam from above, his voice lost in the echos. Sam was well and truly on his own.   
  
His eyes hardened as they narrowed at Ilyana. "You'll never have me," he snarled. "Not now, not ever."  
  
Instead of struggling in hand to hand combat where he was sure to lose, he rammed his head forward, connecting solidly with her nose. Ilyana stumbled back, bumping against the wall behind her. Tears of pain rose to her eyes as a drop of blood fell from her face. He'd broken her nose.  
  
Sam braced himself against the ground, knife in hand, and leaped at her.  
  
In that moment, time seemed to slow down around them. Ilyana's eyes widened at the sight, but she couldn't move fast enough to stop him. Sam could have sworn he saw  _regret_  in her eyes...  
  
He'd remember that expression of regret the rest of his life. It would dig into him, making him think in those short seconds that there was  _another way,_  that she could be saved. She was so young...  
  
And then his knife sank to the hilt in her chest.  
  
Sam pulled away as she sank back against the wall of the vase. "It... should never have ended this way..." Ilyana managed, holding her hands against her chest.   
  
Fire sparked under her fingers, but she couldn't heal the injury, just as Nixie hadn't been able to heal her broken wing on her own. Their greatest weakness.  
  
She stared up at Sam, tears in her eyes. "I only wanted to help my sisters live forever..." she whispered.  
  
Cracks started to form from the knife wound, glowing like magma beneath her skin. Sam went to take a hesitant step towards her, but stopped. Her hair whipped around her in a sudden whirlwind, the flower in her hair shimmering.  
  
Then she burst into flame with a scream, a small explosion of power consuming her form.  
  
Sam was thrown backwards by the explosion. He slammed into the side of the vase, crumpling into unconsciousness as a searing pain sparked up his back.

* * *

  
Dean stared down into the vase, trying to yell instructions through the glass to Sam, who gave no reaction to anything he said.  
  
That fact swiftly became academic as Sam slammed his head at her, knocking the small sprite back. Dean grinned proudly at Sam's quick thinking. Recovering fast, Sam leapt forward, sinking his small blade into her chest. A swell of triumph and pride hit Dean.  
  
"Bobby! He did it! Sam stopped Ily--"  
  
That was when it happened.   
  
While Bobby and Dean had been fighting, they hadn't given any thought to the way the fire sprites died. The small explosions offered no additional danger to either human, after all, and the sprites were healed fast enough to make the feat inconsequential.  
  
Sam, on the other hand, was not only the same size as the explosion, he was also trapped in a confined area with it.  
  
With the triumph dying on Dean's lips, Sam was tossed back like a limp rag doll. The protective barrier from Nixie guarded him against damage from the flames but did nothing against the shockwave. Sam's body hit the thick glass with a hollow, sickening thud, crumpling bonelessly to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been snapped. His small knife clattered to the ground nearby, thrown by the same explosion.  
  
" _SAM!_  "  
  
Dean went to toss the vase to the ground. Sam was hurt.   
  
Sam needed him.  
  
Before the vase budged so much as a millimeter, two hands clamped down over Dean's, freezing him in place. Furious green eyes met soul-piercing blue.   
  
Bobby scowled back at him. "Don't you  _dare_  make that boy's sacrifice mean nothing!" he barked at Dean. "He deserves better than that from his  _brother_."  
  
Dean's eyes widened in outrage. "Don't you  _dare_  tell me what Sam deserves!" he yelled back. "I need to  _help him,_  Bobby! He could be dyin' in there!"  
  
Bobby's hands didn't let up and neither did his words. "You do that, we're back to square one," he shouted, his stubbornness equal to Dean's. "Until  _every last fire sprite_  is gone, we can't risk opening this! Sam understood that going in better than you or me!"  
  
During their shouting match, the fire sprites were slowly flickering out of existence, returning to their home. One or two sent sad, sorrowful glances towards the pile of ash settling at the bottom of the vase, but with Ilyana's remains cut off from them, there was nothing more they could do, and no other reason to remain with her control over them released.  
  
Dean's expression was as hard as it had ever been as he glared at Bobby, all trace of warmth gone from the planes of his face. "Let. Go."  
  
"Dean..."  
  
"I  _said, let go!_ " Dean roared. "If anyone's going to do this to Sam, it's  _me._ "  
  
Bobby slowly nodded with understanding, pulling his hands off. The vase didn't budge as Dean continued to hold it in place, his hands and arms trembling. He stared into the vase at the tiny, prostrate form, all anger replaced by a crushing despair.  
  
"Sammy..."  
  
_What have I done?_

* * *

  
Sam clawed his way through a dark abyss. It was surrounding him, trying to pull him away from the bright glint of consciousness.  
  
Somewhere deep inside, he understood that if he allowed himself to slip down there, to allow himself to fall into the darkness, it would be over. He wouldn't have to worry about anything, there would be nothing left to fear. No reason to hide.  
  
He would be at peace.  
  
Something was holding him back, though, anchoring him to the living world. It might have been the color of the light above him. For some reason, he felt drawn to that reassuring green light. It called his name, pulling him from the edge. Away from death, and the peace of the grave.  
  
Pain started to return as the world lightened. He fought against the tide of darkness, yanking himself out with that unique stubborn determination no one could match except for Dean himself.  
  
The world brightened, and his eyes blinked open. Small fires flickered at the edge of sight, but were quickly being put out by a rush of white foam and a loud roaring noise. He groaned, trying to shift in place, but couldn't move. The surface he was on was soft, and conformed to his body. Once he got a good look around, Sam gave a small jump of fear when he realized he was being held in human hands,  _surrounded_  by human hands. The moment the human above realized he was awake, the hands rose smoothly through the air.  
  
Familiar green eyes blinked at him from bare inches away, forcing Sam to try and focus through the haze of pain his mind had become. That same green that had drawn him away from the edge of death.  
  
“Sam?”  
  
The familiar,  _safe_  voice rumbled around him. That voice meant safety. That voice meant  _home_. No matter what else happened, Sam could rely on that. He could feel the stress and panic that had begun building in the back of his mind start to seep away as he at last realized where he was - gently held between Dean’s careful hands, states away from the humans who’d broken his arm and tried to crush his spirit.  
  
Sometimes he couldn't tell if they'd succeeded in the end.  
  
With a hand pressed against his head, Sam struggled to sit up again on the cushioned, uneven ground. His back burned with pain, arguing against this course of action.  
  
Dean seemed to be in agreement with Sam’s back. One of the huge fingers spaced around him curled inwards, gently pinning Sam flat on his back. A tiny bit of the panic he had left reared its head at how helpless he was. How  _easily_  Dean could trap him. Like a bug. He forced that impression down. This was  _Dean_. He’d never be helpless with  _Dean._  
  
“Hey, hey, hey… take it easy there, Tom Thumb. You took quite a beating with Ilyana. You need to rest, save your strength.”  
  
The urgency in Dean’s voice shocked Sam.  _Something's wrong_.   
  
He could feel it.  
  
He struggled to remember what had happened before finding himself here. The fires in the room helped spark his memory. Ilyana. The fire sprites. Being trapped in a vase.  
  
Nixie. The sprite that was bound to him and a prisoner in her own mind.  
  
“N-Nixie?” Sam managed to gasp out, turning the word into a question with effort. He settled down, knowing it was useless to fight against his brother on a normal day with the differences between them. Now, with his energy gone and his body in pain, it would just make Sam waste energy he didn’t have. Energy he couldn't afford to waste.  
  
The skin between Dean’s eyes crinkled. Sam was momentarily fascinated by the sight. As close as Dean was holding him to his face (bare inches away with how soft Sam's voice was in his pain), he could make out the movement of individual muscles under the skin as they tightened, something he’d never noticed before. The skin flattened out again as Dean’s eyes flashed to the side, glancing at something out of his line of sight.  
  
The hand lowered down, letting Sam see more of the room. Before he could try and struggle to see the rest of the room, it tilted, showing Bobby spraying the fire extinguisher on the last of the fires. Not far from the older hunter, Nixie was sitting on the coffee table, upright and motionless.  
  
"I need to... I need to free her," Sam said, struggling again, more out of desperation this time. Why couldn't he move? Why did Dean have to hold him like this?  
  
The truth slammed him in the face when he remembered how Ilyana died. What had happened to him in those short moments before he'd blacked out.  
  
Fear surged in him. His legs wouldn't respond. His legs wouldn't respond because of the way he'd been thrown against the wall of the vase. Sam remembered hearing a  _crack!_  when he hit the vase. It could have been his body snapping back, but it also could have been... his spine.  
  
He tried desperately to make his legs move. Anything, even the smallest millimeter. Nothing happened. Desperation switched to panic. If he lost his legs - that would be it. He'd become a constant burden on Dean, need help for the smallest, littlest thing. He couldn't even try to escape if anyone else found him.  
  
He'd either have to stay with Dean  _constantly,_  either in a hand or a pocket - the shoulder would become too dangerous - or he'd have to go back and live with his adopted family again. He'd be a constant drain on resources. He wouldn't be able to do anything to help them. And if he stayed with Dean, it wouldn't be any better. He'd lose the freedom to do what he wanted. After everything they'd gone through to save him from those  _people,_  he'd be reduced to nothing better than a pet anyway. No matter how much he trusted or cared for his brother, Sam could never let himself to become a mere  _pet_  to be taken care of.  
  
"Hey, calm down, pint-size," Dean said softly, noticing Sam's desperation down on his hand. "Don't worry, we'll figure this out." His eyes softened. "You did good, kid. You took her out and no one else got hurt, not even the other sprites. They all got to return home."  
  
A finger gently propped Sam up in the palm as he was brought over to the prostrate sprite. "She still needs you, Sam."  
  
Sam blinked away the sudden tears that were in his eyes. Yeah. He was still needed. He clung to that thought.   
  
He could at least help one last person.  
  
"Nixie..." Sam said softly. His voice was almost a whisper too low for Dean or Bobby to hear. "I release you... you're free."  
  
There was a long pause before Nixie reacted to Sam's voice. Her eyes closed in a long, slow blink, as the white slowly leaked out of both eyes. A vibrant blue was visible the next time they opened, a smile on her lips as she spotted her two friends.  
  
"Sam! Dean!" Her voice was bright, giving the dismal mood of the room a strange dissonance. Her empathic abilities began to catch on to the emotional storm around her even as she stood on the coffee table, her brow furrowing at Sam. "You hurt. You are injured."  
  
There was no fear in her as she took to the air, briefly circling around Bobby to get a good look at him. Once the strange man and his flame-quencher were deemed to not be a threat, she flitted over to Sam.  
  
Dean folded his hand so it was almost like Sam was sitting up to see her. She paid Dean no mind, as unafraid of the hunter as Sam was, and completely intent on the injured man.  
  
"What have you gotten yourself into, Sam?" she asked with a soft, sad smile. One hand came to hover over his stomach, and another over his burned arm. Where his injuries lay.  
  
He gave a pained laugh. "I guess I should have read the warning label about fighting a fire sprite. Even if you win, you still lose."  
  
She cocked her head at him. "You speak of Ilyana, yes?"  
  
Sam managed a nod, barely able to concentrate from the numbing pain.  
  
Her hand brushed over his cheek, soft and light. "Hold on for a few minutes for me, okay?" she whispered to him.  
  
With that, she flew up to Dean's eye-level, hovering a few inches out. "Where is my sister?" she asked gently. "Where is Ilyana?"  
  
Dean turned, taking Sam with him on a confusing whirlwind of colors as the room shifted around him, everything beyond his control.  _Get used to it,_  Sam thought disparagingly,  _this is going to be what it's like for the rest of your life. No control, completely dependent... stuck with whatever Dean's doing. Wherever he's going._  
  
Even though Sam knew Dean would never force him to do anything, it wasn't a good feeling to know he'd be helpless. _Beyond_ helpless. Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping down.  
  
Dean nodded in the direction of the ashes Ilyana had left behind for Nixie before glancing back down at Sam. "Hey," he said softly. "Don't worry about it. I've got your back, no matter what." A finger lightly brushed over Sam's hair, too nervous to risk putting any pressure on the injured hunter. "We'll figure it out like we always do. Something like this isn't going to change that."  
  
"It's never been like this before, though," Sam mumbled. "It's never been  _me._  Not like this."  
  
_Not like this._  
  
To distract himself, he watched Nixie fly to the table. She knelt down next to the pile of ash, reaching out to it. Though her hands became black with soot, she dug through it, searching with a strange intensity on her face. She didn't stop until she pulled free a delicate, orange flower and cupped it in her hands. It was the adornment that Ilyana had worn and been so proud of.  
  
" _Flos vitae,_ " Nixie murmured softly, just barely loud enough for Sam to make out from where he was. Then she kicked off the table, tucking it into her own hair. It stood out, a bright fiery orange against her soft black and blue hair.  
  
She flitted up, hovering again so she was level with Sam, stretched out in Dean's hand. "Now, the healing may begin," she said simply.  
  
"Healing? What do you mean, 'healing?' " Sam asked, brief hope fluttering in his chest.  
  
She didn't answer at first. Her hand reached up, brushing the lily in her hair. When she spoke up, her voice was soft enough that Dean had to lean in to hear her, as desperate as Sam for the answer.  
  
"All the sprites of Aeternum can heal themselves or their sisters with their element," was the reply, spoken with no more emphasis than a babbling brook. "But only water sprites can heal  _others._ " Her hair flicked from side to side as she took in the house around them. "There is a freshwater stream outside." Her eyes met Dean's solemnly. "Bring him there, and I can heal his ills. All  _physical_ injury."  
  
Dean's eyes widened, meeting Sam's in shock. Hope surged in Sam at that. He could be healed... This nightmare in which he couldn't move would come to an end.  
  
Bobby saw their reactions. "I'll finish takin' care of everythin' in here. You boys better get out there," he said, practically pushing the shellshocked hunters out the door. "Can't be wastin' time you don't have."  
  
Dean almost stumbled as he followed Nixie, focusing on keeping his hand steady to the exclusion of everything else. Sam let himself relax as much as possible on the short trip, taking it all in. The seeds drifting on shallow air currents that ruffled Sam's hair steadily as they blew. Dean's body shielded him from the more powerful gusts. Birds were singing, crickets were chirping... it was such a deceptively peaceful afternoon Sam almost couldn't believe what they'd just been through such a short time ago.  
  
The sound of water cascading over rocks began to grow in intensity. Dean tilted his hand when Sam tried to push himself up to see, letting his little brother catch sight of the small stream. Nixie hovered almost a foot over a flat pool that the water emptied into. Not even a ripple disturbed the still waters. It was an idyllic, peaceful scene.  
  
She remained hovering, silent as Dean knelt down next to the small pool. He carefully stretched out the hand Sam was collapsed in out to Nixie, holding it over the glassy reflections.  
  
Nixie drifted over until she was only a few inches from the hand. She smiled gently at them both, in tune with the tumult of emotions inside them. "You must place him in the water," she informed Dean. "With an injury like this, there is no other way. He must be immersed."  
  
Dean gulped. "But... Sam can't swim like this. What if..."  
  
He trailed off and her eyes softened. "I will not let him drown. You must trust me if this is to work."  
  
Dean hesitated, but did as she asked. The cool water crept over Sam's body as he was lowered down, soothing his day-old burns even before the healing started. Nixie hovered over him, her body stretched out parallel to Sam's as Dean's hand vanished from under him with a sudden, frightening suction that Sam thought would take him down with it.  
  
He struggled fruitlessly for a moment before Nixie's hands touched his face. "Sam. Calm yourself. I will not let you fall and Dean will watch over us both. You are safe here. This I promise." Her hand stroked his cheek. "This you know."  
  
Sam tried. He really did. The water was surprisingly solid around him as he floated, holding him suspended in place. Dean loomed directly overhead from Sam's perspective, a living mountain of fabric and muscle and weapons. There was nothing more dangerous in the world to Sam and Nixie if Dean ever chose to hunt them, but here, in this life, there was no one safer for them to be with. Dean would guard against monsters and humans both.  
  
Nixie continued to hover over him in that strange parallel of Sam's body even as he allowed himself to relax, drawn to her vibrant blue eyes. Her arms wrapped around him as she drew him into a kiss. This simple motion caught Sam completely off guard and he almost missed the moment they both slipped under the water.  
  
She pulled him into the depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ilyana~~ ;^; My little firecracker baby. Sweet little fire sprite (that tried to blow everyone up)
> 
> She just wanted to help her family. Her way was simply misguided.
> 
> Meanwhile, what's Nixie doing to Sam?! Not what he had planned for a first kiss!
> 
> Story concludes October 23rd.


	12. Rebirth

[Immersion](http://globfish.deviantart.com/art/Immersion-566166644) by [GlobFish](http://globfish.deviantart.com/)

For Sam, it was as though time itself had stopped. 

In the silent, dark pool, they sank ever deeper. Nixie's lips were warm and inviting, sealed to him even as the water rushed around them. A spark of panic lit in Sam when she pulled away. Her warmth was replaced by the icy chill of the water.  
  
There wasn't even a chance of holding his breath.  
  
Sam gave a gasp of desperation as his air ran out. A bubble of oxygen escaped his lungs, taunting him as it rose to the surface alone. A glimmer of blue light reflected off the rounded side as it vanished.  
  
Even as the water filled Sam's lungs and drowned him, Nixie worked.  
  
Millimeters away from Sam's panicked eyes, two blue orbs lit up the dark. An ancient light shone in them, tender as it watched the small human struggle fruitlessly for his life. The relentless tide of fate washed away all of his efforts, marking them as inconsequential and insignificant.  
  
Here, surrounded by the fresh water as it burbled up from the ground, Nixie's power was absolute.  
  
Like a fire sprite in a volcano or an earth sprite under the ground bathing in the tide of moving rock, Nixie harnessed the power of nature itself. Her chant rolled naturally off her tongue, surrounding Sam in the ethereal strains of music that was conceived of eons ago by the gods themselves.  
  
The glow of her magic began to take over the darkness. A ripple of light surrounded her, giving her an angelic appearance as they floated together in the dark. Iridescent wings were folded motionless down her back, reflecting the sublime light.  
  
An invisible current struck at Sam. His struggling arms and legs were contained, stilling his attempts to swim and sealing his limbs against his body. The current surrounded him on all sides, whipping his hair into a whirlpool even as the chant around him crescendoed. The sonorous voice speaking the words no longer belonged to Nixie but instead was the sound of the waters of the world given voice by her song.  
  
A tingling sensation started at the base of his spine. It pushed its way up, slowly beginning to replace all of the pain, all of the strain of his muscles. It overwhelmed his body, removing any sense of feeling or touch with its numbing power. Nothing more than the pressure of the water could be felt all too soon.  
  
And then a warmth began to build.  
  
Even the sudden panic of collapsed lungs wasn't enough to tear Sam's thoughts from the change. His entire body  _burned_  within the light of her magic. It consumed not only him, but all the uncertainty, the pain, the...  
  
Sam's world vanished in the burning light, guided by a voice older than the mountains themselves as it chanted.

* * *

  
Dean sat there, frozen in disbelief as his baby brother sank under the water's surface. His first instinct was to grab them both out, keep them from drowning, but he was held back by a familiar blue tone in his mind.  
  
**You must trust, Dean Winchester.**  
  
The ancient voice from earlier once more filled his head. This time, Dean knew it was Nixie, speaking to him even as she healed Sam, the pool of water glowing with her magic.  
  
**Sam cannot survive without the trust of his brother. You know this, yet you continue to hold back.**  
  
Gently, the presence once again pulled Dean into his memories, showing proof of Sam's trust. Everything he did around his big brother could be shown as a life or death situation, even something as simple as sitting on a shoulder.  
  
**Let him in, Dean.**  
  
Dean found himself standing behind Bobby in his memory of their research in the library. Sam was checking Nixie even as he told Dean his plan to take on Ilyana. What they  _had_ to do to stop her. Dean was forced to watch himself angrily slam a chair against the table, knocking Sam helplessly to the ground. An expression of fear flashed up towards the older brother.  
  
Guilt welled up in Dean. He hadn't noticed. He'd knocked Sam to the ground and he  _hadn't noticed_. He didn't  _deserve_  his brother's trust after a stupid-ass stunt like that, not by a long shot. Yet Sam had come back, stubbornly interrupting Dean's enforced 'alone time' only hours later to argue Dean into coming with them.  
  
**Trust.**  
  
Sadness tinged Nixie's voice now.  
  
**You are the only one that can help him, Dean. His fate is twisted with your own. Neither of you can face it without the other.**  
  
**Be there for him. All the way.**  
  
**You already know he will be there for you.**  
  
_I'm sorry, Sam... I didn't know..._

* * *

  
With a triumphant splash, Nixie darted out of the water. Dean almost stumbled back as she she circled him, a limp form held in her arms. She carried Sam over to a patch of clovers not far from Dean's left boot, gently stretching the small hunter over the soft and welcoming ground. Folding Sam's hands over his chest, Nixie brushed his hair from his face before turning to Dean.  
  
"It is done," she said simply, folding her wings at her back. They fluttered once to flick the rest of the water off.  
  
Hesitant, Dean reached forward with a hand. Nixie didn't move as he gently laid a fingertip alongside Sam's face. His skin was clammy and cool to the touch. Dean felt a small jump of fear in him. "Is he --"  
  
"He will be fine," Nixie stated, natural authority shining in her voice. It helped to push away Dean's doubts. "He must recover his strength, that is all."  
  
Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, rustling the clovers around them. "Thank god. Nixie..."  
  
She interrupted him. "Dean, I can only touch his physical ills. Sam is scarred, mentally and spiritually. While his curse is beyond our touch, you can help him heal his mind." Her small blue eyes bored into him and she laid a hand atop the finger touching Sam. "You are the only one that can."  
  
Sam started to come around as Dean stared back at Nixie, afraid again. "Nixie, I... I can't..." Dean’s voice was choked up, full of his own failures. In the background, Sam convulsed, his body rejecting the water that was used to heal him in a torrent.  
  
She jumped into the air, hovering over Dean's shoulder. "Never say never," she said quietly into his ear, careful to not let Sam overhear.  
  
Sam pushed himself up in the clovers with a hand on his head. He coughed a few more times, spitting the last of the water out of his mouth. "Dean...? Nixie?"  
  
Nixie drifted down to him, landing lightly in the clover. "Sam," she said, gently smiling at him.  
  
Dean slid a hand over to his brother, cupping his fingers around Sam's back to help prop him up. “Welcome back to the land of the living, sleeping beauty,” Dean lightly teased.  
  
Instead of leaning against the hand, Sam used the fingers to pull himself to his feet. With a smirk, he rolled his eyes up at Dean. Then he stared at the way he was standing with no support. "Nixie! You did it!"  
  
"Of course I --"  
  
She was interrupted when Sam crashed into her in an exuberant hug, sweeping her off her feet into a twirl. "Nixie, thanks!" Sam buried his head into her shoulder, almost shaking in his excitement.  
  
Dean blinked away tears, surprised at the emotion in his chest. Sam lowered Nixie down, dropping her into the clovers with him. They reached waist high on the two small people with Dean, the leaves brushing against their sides. Sam gave Dean a huge grin from where he was standing. Dean gave him a more hesitant one back, knowing he didn't deserve that from Sam.  
  
Nixie put her hands on Sam's shoulders. "You are healed," she smiled. "Just as I promised. Stay safe." Her eyes trailed up to Dean's. " _Both_  of you."  
  
She jumped into the air, slowly spiraling away from the ground. "I must return and make peace with my sisters." Her fingers trailed over the petals of the vibrant orange flower in her hair. "And I must return Ilyana to her home. She was young, and misguided. I must see that this will not happen again in the future.”  
  
The air began to ripple around her as she opened the portal to return to Aeternum. She smiled. “If you are ever in need of help, you know how to summon me. I… would not mind seeing you again.  _Either_  of you.”  
  
She darted into the shimmering air, vanishing from sight. One last farewell drifted to them on the breeze as the portal began to fade. Once again, the foliage rippled with her passing. The clovers around Sam began to grow in size and vibrancy, stretching over his head. Dean scooped Sam up into a hand before he lost sight of his brother, taking an uncertain step back as he watched the formation of the fairy circle from the portal to Nixie’s realm.  
  
This time, the circle was off center. Part of it stretched into the small pond, purifying the water. Anyone who drank from it in future years would speak of the sweetness of that pond, cleaner and fresher than anywhere else in the world. The plants grew taller there as well, even the grass. When someone came along and bought the abandoned house and started to fix it up, they always complained about that one place at the edge of their lawn where the grass was always long and thick, no matter how often they cut it. Eventually it was left to flourish on its own, growing into a small grove.  
  
Nixie would be happy at that mark she left, if she ever had reason to return.  
  
The two brothers stood there for a long time, staring into the empty space where the sprite had vanished. Eventually Dean turned and left, heading back to the car. Bobby was waiting.

* * *

  
The image of Ilyana taking on Sam Winchester in the scrying pool burst into flame as his silver knife pierced the small sprite's chest.  
  
With a curse, the scryer waved a hand over the water, quenching the flame. The image of Ilyana and Sam vanished, leaving only her own reflection staring back out at her.  
  
So. Even the sprites of Aeternum had lost to the Winchester boys. That silly little  _flit_  Ilyana had failed her.  
  
Of course, she hadn't expected the interference from a water sprite. Without that assistance, her plan would have worked. Sam would be hers, Dean would be contained from meddling in her plans. How had the troublesome little sprite done it? They were supposed to be bound to not interfere with each other. Celeste had been there in ages past when the sprites had been summoned far more often.  
  
All her work luring the sprites to her to set up her trap had failed. Convincing  _three_  different types of sprites to do her bidding had been more exhausting than she'd ever thought, especially the damned earth sprites with their solid integrity. She'd had to coerce them into her service. The water sprites had never even answered the summons, and the air sprites had grown bored far too fast. Ilyana was the only fire sprite that had been willing to make a pact, leaving her without another option to fall back on. Now, she was back at square one.  
  
Without the boy.  
  
Celeste's lips tightened. She  _needed_  that boy. He was slipping out of control with his brother. They needed to be separated, of that she was certain. Sam was growing to be more of a nuisance than she'd ever thought someone his size could be.  
  
She tapped her lips, considering her options. Twice now she'd failed to have someone bring her Sam Winchester. Perhaps that wasn't the right way to go about this. Maybe she could lure him and Dean in. Set up a trap and claim her prize. Dean was too old for the spell to work on him, but there were always... options. Other spells that had been lost to the depredations of time that only she and a few others remembered.  
  
She smiled. It was not a nice smile. Yes, that was what she'd do.  
  
It wouldn't be long now.  
  
Sam Winchester _would_ be hers. He would fulfill his destiny.

Whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

  
Night fell over Aeternum.  
  
In the deep forests, delicate flower petals folded closed to wait for the new day to be born. The waters of the deep pools grew still as the fish settled down in the rocks or within the leaves of the underwater plants.  
  
Even the air sprites chose to settle down, sleeping to build energy for a new day of mischief. Cersei's feathery wings drew close to her body as she floated down to a rocky spire. From there she could keep an eye on the sky over her home. Her feathers ruffled one last time for warmth before closing her golden eyes.  
  
Even the firelands, with the constant glow of magma lighting the world, settled in to rest. The fire-drakes curled up on their rocks, hiding their heads and necks under glistening red wings for the night. Normally one would find fire sprites curled up with their scaley brothers and sisters.  
  
This was not a normal night by the volcano.  
  
Noonia sat outside the entrance to the towering mountain. A sad croon filled the air of the tunnels. She poured her laments and her regret into her own song. She had let her best friend leave her, and because of it, Ilyana was no more.  
  
Past the long, winding tunnels that made up the center of the fire sprites home, a steady chant could be heard drifting upwards. Inside the deepest cavern to be found without plunging into the magma itself, a somber gathering could be seen.  
  
Fire sprites stood on every rocky outcrop and protuberance. The older sprites had their long, sinuous tails curled around thin spires for balance as they leaned forward to catch sight of the two sprites in the center of the cavern, standing on a rocky outcropping of their own. Such a sight had not been seen for a millenia. Directly behind the pair, the youngest of the fire sprites gathered, their soft young skin glowing in the light as they chanted a dirge to bind their magic to the volcano itself.  
  
Nixie stood next to the matriarch of the fire sprites, wings rustling uneasily as she waited out the song. In her hands was cupped the  _flos vitae_  of Ilyana - her life-bloom, to put it in the terms of the humans. It held the essence of Ilyana's life, her triumphs, regrets, desires... her entire being, reduced to nothing more than the elegant petals of a flower.  
  
As the chant began to shift away from the dirge and thread a tone of hope through the air, the matriarch turned to Nixie. "You have done us a great service, returning our sister to her home."  
  
Nixie gave her a simple incline of her head in return. "It was the least I could do," she replied. In another life, before Sam and Dean, she may have returned Ilyana home, but she would never have remained for the rebirth ceremony, or likely been invited. They had changed the unchanging, a feat she would have believed impossible not so long ago.  
  
She and the matriarch turned back to the pit of magma together. Nixie blinked. "What drew the youngest sprite to the human world?"  
  
The matriarch scowled, the light of the flames deepening her wrinkles. "If she was to have succeeded, immortality was promised to her and all fire sprites."  
  
"Immortality is not as perfect as it may sound, sister."  
  
The matriarch, the younger of the two between them, sighed deeply. "She was young and misguided. Perhaps, in another life, these mistakes will be avoided."  
  
Nixie dipped her head, returning her attention to the ceremony. "Yes."  
  
As the chanting song reached a crescendo of power, Nixie stepped forth. A tear slipped forth from her eye as she remembered young Ilyana, born of Ilia before her just two years past. How had one so young fallen so far, so fast?  
  
"In another life."  
  
She did not ask her sister who had forged the pact with young Ilyana. Such an inquiry was forbidden to her by strictures passed down to her from the gods themselves. But she could wonder.  
  
Gathering the tear on her cheek before it fell and was lost to the volcano, Nixie let it drop onto the petals of the life-bloom. A blue luminance tinted the edges of the orange flower as she allowed her power to imbue it, something never before shared by a water sprite.  
  
As the ritual ended, Nixie tossed the flower into the volcano. It hit the magma with a hiss.  
  
A spark of power burst forth as it was consumed in flame.  
  
_And she of fire will be born anew,_  
  
_Twisting flames to herald her birth,_  
  
_Times change and seasons end,_  
  
_What was once old will be young again._  
  
**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a first kiss! Nixie should work on her moves a little!
> 
> But in truth, the kiss was more than just a kiss. No matter the sprite, manipulation comes naturally. Hers is far different than Ilyana's subversive techniques. She needed him underwater, and she needed the water in him so she could heal. She saw it as the easiest way to get him to not struggle.
> 
> Legend of the Nix:
> 
> The magic of a water sprite is at its strongest within the pure freshwater streams. Because of this, in ancient times when a person who was dying sought healing summoned a sprite, legends began to circulate.
> 
> Nixie and her sisters must drown the victim, in order to heal them. This reflected poorly on the sprites, and their summoning began to happen rarer and rarer, until even the technique of summoning was lost. The legend of the Nix and Nixie spread, inspired by her name. Nixie was one of the sprites that answered the call most often, helping where she could, at least until people grew afraid of her magic. Because of this fear, the summoning of the sprites ceased and stories spread of men being dragged into the depths, never to be seen again.
> 
>  
> 
> Fire sprites:
> 
> The flower worn by Ilyana and her sisters is more than just a flower. It is their flos vitae, or their life bloom. Inside it is held all of their experiences, their memories, their hopes and dreams. By retrieving it and returning it to their home, they are able to perform the ritual of rebirth. This does not bring back the sprite that died, but instead gives her essence a second chance. The new sprite will have her memories, but will be their own person. Reincarnation.
> 
> If the flower is lost, a new sprite will still be born. She will lack the past experiences of the others, and will have to start fresh, just like a human.
> 
> There will be a preview on the tumblr on Sunday for the next story, Adventures at Bobby's.


End file.
